


You're My Past, Present and Future

by FelixFelicis97



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A LOT of Angst, A little bit of slow-burn, Angst, Auror Partners, Bottom Draco, Break Up, DracoxHarry - Freeform, Drarry, Feels, Fluff, Flustered Draco, Hurt/Comfort, I'll just stop tagging, Jealous Harry, Jealousy, M/M, Might have Ooc, Nightmares, Pining Draco Malfoy, Reference to past mistakes, Sassy Harry, Sectumsempra Scars, Smut, eventually there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-11-04 19:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10997157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelixFelicis97/pseuds/FelixFelicis97
Summary: Harry is an Auror for almost five years and has been living in America for two. And now he's back to his friends and his old London life. He just wasn't expecting a certain blonde to make part of it as well.He thought the wounds Malfoy had left were healed. Now he's not so sure.





	1. Shouldn't have left

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiSa_0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiSa_0/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> If you're reading this, I want to start by thanking you for taking a chance on me :)  
> This is my first fanfic and my first language isn't English, so you'll probably find some mistakes along the way. Be gentle, please!  
> I couldn't, of course, forget my dear beta Debby, who encouraged me to write this and it's just the best <3 and also MiSa_0, because you're stupid and I love you (and she also gives good suggestions from time to time).
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

_“STOP, PLEASE. STOP!”_

Harry opened his eyes and sat straight in his bed for the third time in the same night, his breaths erratic. Trying to exhale slowly, he got up and went for the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the purple bags under his eyes, his complexion, normally tanned, looked pale as if he passed the last few days recovering from a flu. _Great face to show in some hours at the Ministry, really. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Didn’t Sleep._ Snorting without any kind of amusement for his own joke, he opened his hand and cast a _Tempus_.

   “Well, this is great” He muttered to himself as the conjured clock above his fingers showed it was only half six. He needed to be at his work by nine, so really, there wasn’t any point in going back to bed. Especially because he knew he was just going to keep waking up with the nightmares. With this in mind, he went down stairs and started brewing his coffee. With his hip rested against the cold stone of his kitchen’s stand and while he waited for his coffee to finish brewing, his mind started to race.

   His nightmares were far less frequent since he went to work with MACUSA in USA for the last two years. After the war, there were nights he couldn’t even sleep. Hermione and Ron used to wake up almost every night to his screams. And then he accepted the opportunity to leave the country and found that, without the constant reminders of what happened, what he lost, _who_ he lost, his nightmares slowly faded, only hunting him once or twice a month. He should have known it wouldn’t last once he was back. He was in London for no more than twenty hours and was already regretting it. Well, not fully. He did miss his friends, the Weaslys, Teddy… but he did not miss sleepless nights.

   Pouring the coffee into his favorite mug, he doze of to the leaving room, falling ungracefully in the black couch. _Seriously, everything is black in Grimmauld Place._ Holding the burning mug in his both hands, the pushed one knee up to his chest and started trying to remember his last dream. Yes, because this one couldn’t exactly be called a nightmare. But it also wasn’t nice. He could picture his first two nightmares of that night perfectly: first, the Florest of Dean, deep breaths escaping his throat as he ran for his life and then the green light he was so used to by now, even though he still wakes up crying every time. And then, it was Sirius death, Bellatrix’s laugh playing over and over again like a broken record. But this last dream was different.

   It had been five years ago. And it was just a stupid crush who decided it was ok to break his heart. Ok, so… not really a crush. More like a love who crushed his heart. But it was a long time ago, and the only thing Harry felt about it by now was just a resentment for letting himself fall that hard. They were only eighteen after all. So why did he dreamt about it, Harry thought.

   Deciding that he was just nervous by coming back, checking with Shacklebolt in the morning and knowing there was a Harry-came-back-alive dinner he was supposed to attend to, he completely pushed this night to the back of his mind and finished his coffee. He wandlessly sent the mug to the sink and went upstairs again. Not bothering to stop by his room, the raven went directly to the bathroom, where he turned on the shower and promptly stepped inside as soon as he got out of his clothes. The water was still a bit cold, however Harry didn’t really mind. He was used to it since he lived with the Dursleys (of course back then he didn’t enjoyed cold showers) and now it helped him renewing the energy the night hadn’t been able to give him. The water eventually warmed and the man let himself out after making sure he scrubbed every millimeter of his skin and stared as the foam washed over along with his morning sadness.

   As the Saviour entered his room, only a towel hanging on his hips and leaving dark watered footprints all over the floor, his mood was much lighter. Happy and excited if he dared to admit. Two years was a long time, and even though he visited London quite a lot, he did miss all the life we left here.

   Of course, it did not take long until Harry was more frustrated than anything else. He had no idea what he was going to wear! He knew it was just a meeting with his almost second father and all of it was more like a “glad you’re back, here’s your new partner and how thing’s going to work” kind of thing. But still, he wanted to look responsible and ready for whatever’s ahead. At about twenty past eight, he gave up.

   Mentally chiding himself for never being able to dress smartly, he raised his hand and accio his phone. It only took four beeps for her to answer:

   “Hello?”

   “Hey Caitlyn. How are things over there?”

   “Harry! Boring since you left us”

   Imagining her little pout, the wizard laughed. “I left yesterday you dung head!”

   “But things are more fun around here with when your lack of style walks through the door”

   “Yeah… about that…”

   “Oh god… ok so, meeting?”

   Ah, Harry already missed her. Smiling, he answered:

   “Yes. Nothing too formal though, it’s just Shacklebolt putting me in line with everything. Still, I want to look a little classy.”

   “I got this. Gimme a second… yap, that’s it. Black suit pants and the dark red shirt I gave you in Christmas. If your wear a tie, make it silver, otherwise leave the first button open. Finish with the black robes with the silver hem at the bottom. Actually, do wear the tie.”

   By the time she finished enumerating his outfit, all his clothes were already folded neatly over the bed, Harry lazily twirling his hand to add black shoes to the set.

   “You’re the best, you know that?”

   “Of course, I do! You kept saying it every time I accepted to be your date in the abnormally boring galas we had to attend to.”  
    
  “And you always chose my robes for that as well.” Harry laughs and then sighs. “I miss you already Caity.”

   “Don’t go all soft on me now, Savior. Get your cute and gay ass out of the house and knock them down today, ok? Oh, and visit me yeah?”

   “You know it”

   With that, he hung up and started putting the clothes on. With all the time he lost trying to pick what to dress, it was already eight and half and he hated to be late for something. Soon enough, the robes were flowing around him, the buttons clasped from its chest to its stomach, only allowing to see the silver tie and a bit of the red shirt tucked in his pants.

   The silver barely grazed the ground as he took powerful strides and entered the green flames without a second thought.

~~~

   Harry swears he tried to go unnoticed. He really did! Ducking his head, he rapidly tried to make his way around the fountain to the lifts, silently thanking Caitlyn for choosing black. But of course, destiny never really helped him, did it?

   “HARRY! HARRY!”

   He only had time to see all the heads turning to face him before a breathless Hermione jumped in top of him, hugging his neck with a strength he didn’t remember her having.

   “I can’t believe you’re back. We missed you so much!”

   Coughing with the effort to talk, Harry hugged her back. “Mione, I missed you as well and I do appreciate de enthusiasm, but I would like not to break my neck in my first day back.”

   Her embrace eased a little, but her arms remained around him. Chuckling a little, the curly haired girl pulled her face away, her hair making Harry’s nose twitch. There were some clear tears welling up in her eyes and Harry promptly tighten his grip again.

   “Hey, come on. I was here three months ago and you saw me every week by floo call. No need for crying in the middle of the bloody Ministry, don’t you think? Since you already ruined my chances of going unnoticed, thank you very much by the way.”

   Finally letting him go, the man thought the worst was over. Until Hermione hit him on his shoulder with an open hand. People, who had started heading their ways again, looked back at the duo.

   “ _Ouch!_ ” It’s not like it really hurt him. Two years with american aurors had filled his body quite quickly, and he was already in a good shape when he left.

   “Harry James Potter, don’t you _dare_ saying floo call can substitute your company or a day every few months would be good enough.”

   “That’s not what I…”

   “Also, you are expected for dinner at our flat tomorrow. Ron hasn’t stop talking about you for a week now and I can’t stand him anymore…” The smile on her face told Harry otherwise, but he didn’t dare to interrupt. “…so, you better show up at eight o’clock.”

   “Wouldn’t miss it even if I was dying.”

   “Do try to stay alive, though.”

   Laughing lightly at her attempt of hidden smile, his arms found their way around her waist and pulled her into a new hug.

   “I did miss you both a lot, you know that? Feel free to show up at my place tonight, ok?” Glancing at the clock, a muttered cursed left his mouth. “I have a meeting with Shacklebolt now. I’m almost late.”

   “I’ll floo call you to let you know if we’re showing up.”

   “Kay!” A quick peck on her face, and Harry run to the lifts, barely catching the one leaving.

   As soon as his foot was on the lift and the doors closed, a small buzz filled the air. Harry could hear his name and his _oh so amazing victory_ , as an elder woman had putted, leaving people’s mouths.

 _Well, I guess Daily Prophet will have a very wonderful, full day._ The blushing man deduced bitterly.

   Soon enough, the elevator stopped in his floor and he stepped out, leaving the murmurs behind and advancing to the Aurors Department. Despite the two years he’d been away, he still remembered where every corridor would lead him and he found himself by the Head Auror’s door. Cursing for still not having a wrist clock, Harry withdrawn his wand and hastily casted a Tempus.  He preferred wandeless magic, it was more natural to him by now, but he didn’t want to risk someone seeing him and running to the press.

   Happy to see he managed to arrive five minutes earlier he hid his wand back into his robes and knocked on the dark door.

   Shacklebolt voice seemed to come from next to him, even though there was a thick door separating them. “Enter”

   _Nice spell._

   The office was just like Harry remembered: high walls and an enormous window giving a square shape to the room. The table, where Shackelbolt sit, was in front of a large bookcase with papers and missives flying in and out every few seconds.

   “Good to see you’re still alive, Harry.”

   “Why does everybody seem to think I was going to die?”

   “With your background, do you still wonder?”

   _Point taken._

   Shamelessly, he fell in one of the chairs in front of the dark man and cracked his fingers.

   “So, now that I’m back _and alive_ , what do you want from me? Do I have a mission?”

   “Calm down Harry! You just came back and you already want to be on the field?!”

   “You talk like you don’t know me.” Harry answered laughing.

   Shackelbolt suddenly gained a much more nervous posture. His shoulders were tensed and Harry immediately tensed as well. Last time he saw the man getting nervous, things ended with an accidental magic burst from Harry. 

   “First, you need to meet your new partner. He must be almost here, it’s only a minute past nine. He’s never late for anything…”

   As soon as the words left his mouth, there was a knock on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this first chapter is short and doesn't make all the sense in the world, but I promise everything will get into pieces later!  
> Also, I'm sorry for the lack of interaction from our boys, but you need to wait for it ;)  
> Would love, love, love some kudos and comments to know if you liked it and what I should do better!  
> Thank you!


	2. God must hate me

   Harry’s head turned back, just as pale fingers rounded the door and a soft voice reached his ears.

   “I’m sorry for my delay Sir, I was…” Draco Malfoy’s voice slowly faded as grey eyes locked with bright green ones. And he knew that green all too well.

   Harry was routed to the spot, his body stiff like he was just hit with a _Petrificus Totalus_. As much as he tried, it seemed that his torso didn’t want to obey him, so all he could do was stare at the painfully familiar face in front of him.

   _Hell, no. This can’t be happening._ The dark skin man tried to reason.

   Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to have been put under the same curse. Still by the door, both feet barely inside the office and the green apple in his hand hardly hold by numb fingers, his mouth seemed to be able to move again as he sucked a sharp breath.

   “Ah, yes, Auror Malfoy. You’re not late at all. Please, do enter and close the door.” Shacklebolt’s voice broke the spell and both younger men snapped their heads in his direction. “I believe you two remember each other.”

   “Harry…”

   Harry did everything to not react at his name. Actually, he obligated his mind to not even acknowledge it. After all, Malfoy was just like any other person. However, he did react to the myriad of tones his name held. There was surprise, incredulity, hurt, hope and… was that _despair_?

   _No no no! I absolutely don’t care._ Realizing he was still dumbstrucked, he quickly shaped his face into a blank look.

   “Malfoy?” His voice did not sway. It didn’t even transpire any emotions. It was just a flat tone, like he had just asked Head Auror if he wanted sugar in his coffee.

   Draco, now closer to the other two man, winced. He could cope with anger, he could cope with denial, _damn it_ he could even cope with despise. But this? This… _indifference_? It made a knot in his throat.

   “I am aware of your past animosity. I do hope, however, that you too have grown enough to look past it.” The Head Auror shot them a look that stated he wouldn’t accept otherwise. Long gone was his nervousness. The man in front of the younger aurors was fully confident of his decision.

   Harry felt, rather than saw, his new unwanted partner sit next to him.

   “Sir, with all due respect, are you sure I should be working with Harry Potter?”

   Anger flared up in Harry chest. His hands started shaking and he could feel the magic leaving the tips of his fingers. Curling them in a fist and doing everything to not look at the man at his left, he was about to answer when Malfoy continued.

   “I mean, it would be an honor to work with auror Potter, but… I just finished my training, sir! I never even worked in the field yet. He has been the most promising auror since he became one and, well… he’s Harry Potter!”

   _With all the fucking aurors that hate me, he had to go and put me with…”_ Malfoy’s thoughts were interrupted by the man he was trying to reason with.

   “Are you all right, auror Potter?” Shacklebolt asked scanning the Savior’s face.

   Harry realized he was holding his breath, the little magic burst at his hands now controlled. Clearing his throat, he answered in the calmest voice he managed:

   “Yes, yes. I just didn’t know Malfoy applied to our department. It was unexpected. I’m sorry, sir. Please continue.”

   “As Malfoy said, he just finished his training. He has been with us for almost two years and achieved top marks in all his evaluations. In fact, he holds the best marks in the last four years, only exceeded by yours, Harry. As so, I believe that putting you together as partners will only increase your abilities and help auror Malfoy to quickly learn all that he needs for this job.”

   The dark skin man observed the two aurors in front of him. Really, there weren’t two more different people in the world than these ones, he thought to himself. The almost white hair in Malfoy’s head contrasted with Harry’s black locks, almost reminding him of muggle black-and-white movies. Their skins could be made of marble and amber. The colour of their eyes, though, almost seemed to belong to the old Hogwarts house.

   Shacklebolt was starting to doubt his idea when Harry’s eyes flicked to his, and a mask of pure determination fell over his face. _I don’t even know how the kid has green eyes. There is not a single bone in that body that ain’t bloody Gryffindor._

Draco, on the contrary, was absolutely sure that the Chosen One didn’t even want to look at his face again in his life. What he had done wasn’t forgivable.

   And that’s why he couldn’t help but gape at the man at his side when he started speaking:

   “I hadn’t analyzed it that way. I am certain you made the right choice, sir.”

   The older man felt his chest fill with pride at the man in front of him. This man, that he loved like a son, who had lost so much and so many. Who had fought so much and still chose to fight even after war was over. Who had the right to demand everything but was so altruistic, he believed the world didn’t owe him anything.

   The man in question shifted awkwardly in his chair, two pair of eyes glued to his face.

   Regaining his composure, the Head Auror looked over at Malfoy again, smirk tugging at his lips because of the shocked face the other held. _Yeah, Malfoy. He does do that to people a lot. Get used to it._

   “Brilliant then! Nevertheless, I feel obligated to warn you two: no dangerous missions will be assign to you for the next weeks. I think you should learn how to work together first and besides, auror Malfoy has never been on the field and auror Potter just came back from MACUSA, which I’m sure it means he never _left_ the field unless he received a direct order before he went and tried to kill himself.” Shacklebolt knew he was crossing the line between work and personal but, seriously, he received the damned barn owl, saying Harry was recovering from an injury, so many times in the last two years, that after the 25th time he just started asking his secretary if it had arrived already.

   Even with the growing tension between the younger men, Harry gave him a lopsided smile, apologizing silently for the sleepless nights he knew Shacklebolt had at his account.

   “Now, on more serious matter about your… relation. I expect your problems to stay in the past and you two give one another an opportunity to start from new.”

   Malfoy, who had saved what his superior had said a few seconds before to further examining, turned his head, finally taking his eyes out of Harry’s profile. And he wished.

   He wished that the Head Auror was right.

   “Yes, sir.” He automatically reassured.

   Harry, on the other hand, took his time answering. He chose his words carefully and only opened his mouth when he was satisfied with them.

   “Of course, sir. After all, Hogwarts was a long time ago, when we were just kids who didn’t know what they were doing. Nothing of it matters now.”

   There was, obviously, no way the Head Auror would ever come to know why Malfoy suddenly seemed to still, his eyes becoming itchy.

   “I’m glad you two feel that way. Now, I believe I have nothing else to discuss with you, auror Potter. I suppose you remember our department’s schedule, so I assume you’ll be in your new office by Monday morning. Auror Malfoy, I have a few small things to discuss with you.”

   Draco didn’t react.

   Harry got up, tension finally leaving his muscles, replaced by a sore feeling. He advanced towards the door but stopped himself.

   “Sir, which one is our new office?”

   “Three hundred and ninety-four.”

   Ducking his head in a goodbye, he resumed his way out.

   At the first foot out of the door, Malfoy finally moved, his head snapping back. But their eyes didn’t lock again.

   “Harry!”

   And the door closed.

~~~

   Harry pounded his feet against the dark floor, every step quicker than the other, the frustration he managed to subside, coming back full force now that he wasn’t next to a man he respected.

   _Malfoy? Fucking Draco Malfoy?! Of all the freaking people..._

   He should go back. He should go back and ask for any other partner. Anyone. How was he supposed to do his job now? Not only their history was filled with hurt and hate, he wasn’t even going to last _a week_ listening to the brat complaining about every-bloody-thing.

   Exhaling heavily as he ran a hand through his eyes and hair, the raging man tried to rationalize with himself. He knew he would never turn on his heels and demand a new partner. Shacklebolt’s reasons, as much as it annoyed Harry, made sense. Also, and the man would never admit it to himself, he was impressed with Malfoy’s scores. He had set a record four years ago, way above the one before him, and someone getting near his own marks was enough motive to awe-struck The Chosen One. Specially, because he was sure his scores were only thanks to his name, more than his skills. And name was a thing that certainly didn’t help on Malfoy’s side these days. Which was a whole other point that convinced Harry to accept his fate. As much as he despised the _former_ Death-Eater, it couldn’t have been easy to go through the year and half of training with that name always pulling him to the wrong side of people. Not that Harry should find it important, though. It’s not like the blond man ever cared about him.

   As soon as the thought was formed, his mind was filled with his own name, leaving Malfoy’s mouth, the two times with a different pitch but both… _pleading_. Almost like he wanted to…

   _Don’t go there._

   His anger was back again, more devastating then before. His strides grew bigger, urgent even. He could see people looking at his way. Some gaping, others just staring. He didn’t care. He just wanted to enter the green flames and go back to his place.

   “Stupid apparition wards.” He muttered. It’s not like he couldn’t break them easily. Just a twist and he would be home, probably cradling a big firewhisky glass. Of course, that would give the press a filled week. And the lunch edition was probably already out, proclaiming to the seven winds that the powerful wizard who defeated the Dark Lord was back again to protect them against the dangers of today. There was a bigger probability he would be curled up in his bed, rather than fighting a new Dark Lord, but he preferred to let Rita Skeeter write whatever she needed to satisfy her readers.

   What seemed like a long journey, but in reality took him about seven minutes, ended up in front of the same fireplace that brought him there. Promptly, he stepped inside.

   The familiar push and pull took him and he welcomed it. After the unexpected turn the morning had taken (funny that he actually believed it would be just a normal meeting. Never anything in his life was normal) he was just happy that only his body was spinning. As soon as it started, it was over and Harry found himself standing in his living room, without knowing what to do. Ron and Hermione would only arrive after work and it wasn’t even ten yet.

   A yawn escaped his body and suddenly, he felt like all the hours he didn’t sleep and the emotional rollercoaster his morning was, were crushing his body. Deciding that sleeping was an amazing way of not dealing with recent events, and also a smart solution instead of starting the cleaning the house was desperately in the needing of, he once more climbed the stairs, – well, more like crawled – waved a hand in front of himself to remove his clothes, which appeared neatly folded by one of the bed’s corner, and blacked out, one leg still hanging over the right side of the bed.

~~~

   Sitting up on the bed, Harry gave up on sleeping for the second time that day. Even though it was already four in the afternoon, and he hadn’t gotten up since he went to sleep in the morning, his head still hurt like he if he hadn’t slept at all. He blamed it on the dreams.

   Shivering, the man realized he was in his boxers, not even under the blankets and it was October. The Black house was never warm and so, getting up and turning on the shower, he tucked the clothes, not neatly folded anymore, in the wardrobe and stepped under the hot water.

   Fat drops formed in his chest, some coming from the shower and others from his now damped hair. He never gave himself time to think, only allowing the water sound to calm his nerves and the scrubbing to relax his body. Leaving the bathroom while trying to dry the black mess in his head, only the sweatpants warming him so far, he heard a scratching noise coming from downstairs. _Oh right, Hermione._ Towel still in hand, hair dripping to his shoulders and through his back, he reached the window and opened it so the small grey owl could fly in.

   “Hey Elliot,” Harry greeted while scratching the back of the tiny pet “long time no see. What you up to?”

   Hooting softly, the owl raised its leg and stood still while the man worked the knots holding the paper. After he was done, he extended his hand to the animal, who quickly hopped up the arm and nested against the black hair, seeming careless about the water still damping the whole area.

   Not wanting Elliot to get cold (which Harry knew it was stupid since owls are prepared to survive negative temperatures), he gave up on the towel and spell dried his hair. He received a few small bites in his ear, thanking him for the new-found softness. Unrolling the parchment, he smiled as he recognized Ron’s messy writing:

 

    _Hey mate!_

_You’re finally back! Thought I was going nuts, without you to help me keeping things on track…_

_Just kidding, you’re worse than me and we both know it. But really, I missed my best mate._

_Mione told me to warn you that will be there after dinner. I expect a glass of firewhisky waiting for me._

_See ya in a few hours!_

_Ron_

_P.s: I guess you didn’t take the cloak to work since the Prophet is going mad with your come back. I’ll bring today’s edition so we can have a good laugh._

Harry felt the muscles on his cheeks burning with the wide grin plastered in his face. He really missed Ron and the prospect of a night with his best friends made the day seem a lot better, independently of what had happened in the morning. Conjuring a quill, he scribbled an answer:

 

   _Ron,_

_You know where the glasses are. Fetch yourself one._

_See you_ _two in a few hours._

   _Harry_

Rolling the parchment to its original state, he left it on the table and turned his head, to try and peer at Elliot.

   “Hey buddy, want some water before you go back? I don’t have biscuits for you today, sorry about that.”

   Owl still in his shoulder, the man grabbed a small bowl and filled it with water. The animal jumped to the black marble and started killing its thirst. Meanwhile, Harry put the kettle on and grabbed his favorite coffee. Once Elliot was ready, he tied the note back to the animal’s leg and, petting it one more time, sent it back to Ron.

   Clutching the scalding coffee mug in his hand, he dragged his feet to the leaving room and set the mug on the table in front of the couch. After accioing one of the Weasley sweaters and letting it warm his torso and arms, he picked back his coffee and sipped, barely burning his tong. Just how he liked it. Scanning the room around him, he could see the dust that had settled in the past months. A thin layer covered all the furniture and gave the room a grim look, even though all the curtains were open and it was an uncharacteristic sunny day. Sighing, he lazily finished his drink before starting to clean the house. The man had always hated cleaning. It reminded him too much of Privet Drive. He believed that was the reason all his belongings were always a mess, even in Hogwarts. Luckily for him, cleanings with magic where much easier and much, much faster. It was around seven when Harry thrown himself to bed.

   “Bloody hell, I hate cleanings.” He groaned to himself. Scrubbing his face, the stubble scratching his palm and glasses falling back to his hair, he thanked Merlin that he managed to clean all the rooms in so little time. _I should probably start making dinner_ _before Ron and Hermione decide to show up._ He laid for a little while longer, before deciding it was probably a good idea to cook on foot and in the kitchen. As far as his wandless magic went, he doubted he would cook something edible without actually seeing the stove. And so, he got up, went back to the kitchen, and started an Alfredo Pasta with chicken and some mushrooms. By the time Hermione and Ron arrived, he had already eaten and cleaned everything. The _wosh_ of the floo told him his friends had arrived and he stepped into the living room.

   “Hey there, Harry!” The Gryffindor didn’t have time to answer before a pair of arms circled him and a hand patted his back.

   “Hi, Ron. I missed you too.” When they detangled themselves, Harry turned to greet Hermione, who planted a kiss in his cheek.

   They all sat in the two couches in the room, the couple entwining their hands as Harry sat in front of them, across the coffee table.

   “How’s the shop, Ron?”

   “Oh, it’s been great. Business is better every month and George is about to launch a tone of new gadgets, just in time for Christmas. Of course, this means more management and bills sorting for me, but I don’t regret it.”

   “I’ll try to go there this week. I want a preview of those gadgets”

   “So, mate, tell us what happened in the last months. We barely talked to you.”

   “Nothing special, not really. Some bad wizards, a couple _Avada Kedravas_ thrown at me… I’m kidding Mione! Now, seriously, me and Caitlyn had a very dull last months. We almost wished somebody tried to attack MACUSA. I guess that’s why they didn’t try so much to make me stay this time.”

   “Well, we’re glad you didn’t! Things are not the same in pub nights and Saturday dinners without you.” Hermione confessed, a little pout forming.

   “Don’t worry. This time I’m here to stay.”

   “Well, Skeeter must be pretty happy about it as well, considering today’s paper.” Ron laughed, throwing _The Prophet_ in his direction.

   The front page showed Harry, in this morning robes, leaving one of the Ministry’s fireplaces, the green fire still subsiding behind him. The wide, black letters made him scoff:

 

**The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice has returned once again, still alive.**

Scanning the page, nothing came to his attention. It was the usual: some praise because he saved the world, a little talk about his absence for two years, questioning why he would be back now and… ah yes, of course. It wouldn’t be Skeeter if it didn’t have something written about his love life.

 

   **Do you think our Savior’s heart was caught by some girl (or boy) during his time in America? I guess we’ll see, my dear readers.**

“You would think that, four years after I came out to the world, she would have already stopped trying to paint me as bisexual.”

   “And kill the hopes of your legion of female fans?” Ron mocked

   “You know Skeeter writes whatever sells.” Hermione interjected. “Besides, I’d rather not start talking about that bitch just when Harry’s back. How was your meeting with Shacklebolt?”

   Harry tensed. Flashbacks, not just from the morning, came running back to him. Just like that, he was back to Eight Year. And he wasn’t happy.

   The girl eventually had to snap her fingers in front of him. Focusing on his friends again, he looked to their now worried faces. He exhaled, considering one last time if it was a good idea to tell them, before realizing they would eventually find out anyway. Looking at the floor, he spoke:

   “Malfoy is my new partner.”

   There was silence for a solid minute, his friends just scrutinizing his face, barely breathing. Harry finally locked eyes with them. Hermione was the first to cut the silence.

   “Draco Malfoy?”

   Harry nodded.

   “Well, I will fetch that glass you offered.” With this, Ron got up, walking to the kitchen, and returned with three glasses. Setting them on the table, he filled them with the promised firewhisky bottle. He handed the tensed boy the fullest one. They all sipped the liquid before resuming their talk.

   “What will you do, mate?”

   “What can I do, guys? He was assigned to me, so there’s not really much I can change.”

   “But, Harry, you can’t… I mean, it’s not fair! It will not end well.” Hermione tried to reason. She was already gesticulating madly, trying to come up with a solution.

   “Well, it’s not like I can barge into Kingsley office and ask to be reassigned.”

   “I’m sure he would understand, he…” Ron never got to finish his sentence, as Harry interrupted, the whisper hardly heard.

   “I don’t want to work with him. I don’t want to be reminded everyday of Eight Year. I don’t want to look at the boy I snogged for months and then broke my heart. Sometimes it still hurts, even if I don’t love him anymore, but it’s been five years and I can’t let myself be affected by this.”

   No one answered and, raising his glass, the wrecked man gulped the rest of the whisky.

~~~

   The firewhisky bottle was two thirds down when the trio called it a night. They had dropped the Malfoy subject right after Harry’s admission and he had been grateful by it. Instead, they had focused on all the news he had missed while he was in America: Neville was about to propose to Hannah (once he got the courage to) and McGonagall had made him Head of Gryffindor (Harry couldn’t agree more with this choice) ; Seamus and Dean had finally admitted they were dating and were stunned when everybody simply said they already knew; Ginny was dating no less than Blaise Zabini which, by the grimace on Ron’s face, it seemed as not a so good new.

   “I mean, I don’t mind my little sister dating, but did it really had to be Zabini? He’s a ponce!” He was trying to argument why Blaise was a bad choice for the last five minutes. He was going to continue, but when he got up gesticulating widely with his hands and wobbled a little, he gave up. “I think we better go home before I’m to tipsy to use the floo.”

   “You’re already tipsy, Ronald.” Hermione chided. Harry snorted. Two years and nothing changed: Ron was still sensible to alcohol and Mione still treated them like kids. “You’ve drank enough as well, Harry! Bed, now.”

   “Yes, mommy.”

   “Oh, shut up. I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner, ok?” She asked, standing up to kiss him good-bye and grabbing her goofy-smiling boyfriend.

   “Yeah, see you tomorrow guys. I’ll be there around eight o’clock.”

   “Bye, Harry.” Ron said before stepping into the fireplace.

   Suddenly, it all felt too quiet. Too empty.  Harry leaned against the couch, all his tiredness gone, and memories once back creeping to his thoughts. He eyed the resting bottle in the coffee table.

   “Fuck it”

   If he was going to remember, he might as well be pissed when that happens. And so, he grabbed the cold bottle, stormed into his room, laid in bed, and remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little longer than the previous one and even though I was only going to post it this Saturday, I decided that it was better to upload it today ;) the next one however, is going to be reaaally long, which means I'll only post it around June 10th. You'll have to wait a little, but I hope it's worth it!
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos or comments so I can get better :D
> 
> Thank you!


	3. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I just want to warn you that this chapter is rather long, comparing to the other two I've posted, but I hope it's worth it! I wasn't planning on writing so much but I kinda lost control over myself ;)  
> Also, please check the end notes.
> 
> I hope you like it!

Harry was quiet, the train making him sway a little. In front of him, Hermione and Ron were all over each other, only stopping their snogging from time to time, smiling sheepishly to one another. He didn’t blame them. He didn’t. It’s just that, after a summer of this, he was growing tired at being the third wheel and also, withholding their… more advanced physical activities.

   Closing his eyes, he decided he should try and get some sleep before arriving to Hogwarts, since the nights weren’t exactly giving him that satisfaction.

   Soon, he found it difficult to ignore the wet sounds next to him and opened his eyes again. He glared at the couple for a few seconds before giving up, since they were too focused on eating their mouths out.

   “Guys” He tried, without any success. “Guys!”

   When no attempt to stop was made, Harry took out his wand and, pointing at Ron’s calf, he casted a light Stinging Hex.

   “Ouch! What the-“

   “I love you guys a lot, you know that, and I’m very happy for you too. I won’t miss the weeding you’ll sure have one day, I promise. Although, by the looks of it, you two might miss it. But for now, if you two don’t get another place to snog, I will hex your tongues so YOU STOP DOING IT IN FRONT OF ME.”

   They both set their eyes on the floor, a blush creeping through their cheeks, and had the decency of departing a little.

   “Sorry, Harry.” Hermione said, her hands trying to tame her hair. Ron shifted in his place, the red colour on his face now fading. She continued talking, now a little more composed, in a weak attempt to dissipate the tension in the room. “So, are you two excited for coming back?”

   “Just go find an empty cabin, Hermione!” Harry laughed. “Stop worrying about me. I’m eighteen now, mommy.” Some things never change.

   “Mate…”

   “I didn’t fight a Dark Lord to have to deal with you two.” Harry tells them, a smile still tugging at his lips. They answer with a smile of their own. “I’ll try to sleep a little before we arrive, so even if you stayed, I wouldn’t be such a good company, anyway.”

   Ron didn’t need any more encouragement. Grabbing his girlfriend wrist, he tugs her to her feet and starts making it out of the compartment when Hermione suddenly turns her face back to Harry again.

   “Wait, you’re tired? Have you been having night-“

   “Bye guys, don’t forget the Silencing Charm!” With a whip of his wand, the door closed right in front of a shocked Hermione, who is now sending a death glare through the glass.

   Eventually, she succumbs to Ron’s arm around her waist and follows him into the next carriage. Harry exhales, finally alone and able to let his eyes drift close, the stinging sensation in them alerting him to how much he needs some good hours of sleep.

   However, he starts dwelling in his friend earlier question. Was he excited for coming back? Well, he was glad. After all, Hogwarts was his home, aside from the Burrow. The walls of the castle were full of happy memories from the first six years: the nights in the cosy common room, whispered plans between the shelves of the library, the quidditch games, breaking the rules and laughing about it after… every happy memory was running through his mind, making him happy, as if a _Patronus_ was next to him, the warm feeling of love drifting him to sleep. But then the other images came. The spells, the lights, the remains of those big walls, _the screams_ and the feeling of being punched in the chest, only the dark meeting him.

   Harry opened his eyes, the bright landscape outside reminding him he wasn’t back to the Forbidden Florest. He was glad he was coming back, he might even be _excited_ about it… but he was also scared. Scared of the wrecks he would find once he arrived home, scared of how the mourn would hurt him, scared of not being able to bear it.

   The sound of someone opening the door startled him from his reverie. He was about the chide Hermione when his eyes caught pale and thin limbs. The words died in his throat as he realized who they belonged to.

   “Potter.” Malfoy greeted, no malice apparent in his voice, much to Harry’s surprise.

   “Malfoy.” He answered ducking his head.

   “I’m sorry I disturbed you. I didn’t realise you were in here.” He made his way to leave the cabin and, until today, Harry still doesn’t know what made him stop the blonde. Maybe it was the lack of his characteristic sneer, maybe it was the indifference in his voice or the way his shoulders were sagged in contrast with his usual straight back. Or maybe Harry just didn’t want to be alone.

   “Why are you here?” Noting the confusion in the grey eyes (were they always that big and bright?) he added “I mean, why aren’t you with Parkinson or Goyle?”

   Pain flooded his eyes before being replaced with anger. For some reason, the brunet felt better seeing Malfoy finally coming back to his old self.

   “I’m not conspiring to kill you Potter. If you really want to know, Goyle isn’t coming back and Pansy’s in the first carriage with the rest of the Slytherins. I just needed some air.”

   “I didn’t believe you were conspiring, Malfoy.”

   “Amazing how things change.”

   Harry had the retort right in the tip of his tongue, the accusation burning to leave his lips. Instead he swallowed, exhaled and stared at Malfoy right into the stormy eyes. He hadn’t died for this. He died because he believed everyone was equal, everyone was worth saving.

   “You know, there’s plenty of air in here. Why don’t you sit?”

   Judging by the shock in his face, Malfoy was probably so stunned he actually sat in front of him, the long legs locking at the ankles. An awkward silence filled the space and Harry was sure the boy in front of him would just get up and leave, when he spoke:

   “I never…” he cleared his throat, averting the green eyes that bored into him “I never thanked you for talking on the behalf of my family, in the trials. So, thank you, Potter.”

   “I believe in everything I said back then. I just wish I could have done more.”

   He snorted, disbelief flooding his words. “How could have you done more?! My father tried to kill you. He served a mad man whose goal was killing you as well! And still, you went to the trials, saved me and my mother from a life in Azkaban and reduced the penalty to my father. He didn’t deserve it, Potter. _I_ didn’t deserve it.”

   Harry’s heart stopped all at that. He certainly couldn’t believe that. Right?

   “Do you believe in what Voldemort stood for?”

   “I…You… I mean… What?”

   Two years prior, the Gryffindor would have given half the contents in his vault to see Malfoy at a loss of words. Now? It made him ache for the boy.

   “Do you believe we are better than muggles? That muggle-borns are inferior to pure blood linage?”

   Malfoy stared at him, and stared, and stared a little more before dropping his eyes to the floor and whispering “No.”

   Harry saw, like a switch, the vulnerable person in front of him changing into the Slytherin he always knew. The grey eyes became dimmer and his mouth formed a straight line – wait, no, he was _not_ looking to Malfoy’s lips. His pale face shut down, the mask of indifference back at it’s place.

   “Well, if you’re done stalling me, I have people to go back to. See you around, Scarhead.”

   He got up, but before he could set a foot out of the cabin, Harry extended his hand.

   Abruptly, he felt the air shift between them. The feeling of a twisted déjà vu wouldn’t leave him, but he had no idea why. However, the glint in Malfoy’s eyes told him that he knew. The bastard. The dark-haired boy was about to lower his hand when he felt cold fingers enveloping his, a warm shiver travelling down his spine.

   “See you around, Malfoy.” Just as suddenly as it first touched him, the cold hand receded along with the boy who own it.

   Harry was left ignoring the sudden feeling of disappointment.

~~~

   Much to the boy’s surprise, arriving at Hogwarts wasn’t as painful as it seemed back at the train. Sure, not everything was that easy: some of the still remaining wrecks, that weren’t built together on time, making them gasp or tears to well up in their eyes as memories assaulted them; the gaps at the tables; the common mourn for all who were lost. But everything became more bearable after McGonagall’s speech, one that could battle all the six that Harry had heard Dumbledore proclaim.

   She talked about new starts, new hopes, mourn for the dead but never forgetting we’re living, helping each other and finished, much to Harry’s dread, by thanking him, not only for saving them, but also for being their symbol of hope. A round of applause travelled the Great Hall, led by no less than the Headmistress herself who looked at him with such adoration and proud that Harry felt like he was home again. It wasn’t until he averted his eyes from her that he noted the unmistakable pale hair on the Slytherin table, his owner clapping his hands together along with the rest of the crowd, the grey stormy eyes never leaving his but no longer with hate clouding them. The Saviour never suspected he would fall for those eyes rather quickly.

   The rest of the feast went calmly enough, the familiar sound of a hundred parallel conversations filling the air and the excitement for the start of the new year palpable. Well, it was palpable for anyone paying attention, yet Harry found himself unable to concentrate in anything else, apart from eating and Malfoy. He constantly felt like they were in an eye battle, glancing at the opposite table once they thought the other wasn’t looking in his direction. At least the Gryffindor was avoiding the clear eyes. He couldn’t say much about the other boy, since their eyes never met again throughout the meal, but for some reason he could _feel_ it.

   The trio was about to get up and head to the Gryffindor dormitories when Professor McGonagall spoke again, her voice amplified by a light _Sonorus_ :

   “I hope all of you are now satisfied and I’m sure everyone wants to go to bed so they can start fresh tomorrow. However, there are a few details I need to discuss with the Eight Years. Perfects, I believe you still know the way to your respective dormitories.”

   It took about five minutes for the Great Hall to be silent again, only the Headmistress and the Eight Years remaining inside. All pair of eyes were set on her and she actually seemed… _nervous?!_

   “First of all, I want to congratulate all of you for having the persistence to come back.” She started. “Now, I have some news for you, some of which I think you’ll appreciate, and the others I hope you’ll graciously accept them.”

   At this point the interest in the room was at its highest peak. She continued:

   “To start, the new hour of curfew for all of you is at mid-night.” She stopped and glared at them when exclamations of happiness rose in all the four tables. “Secondly, the professors agreed you should have permission for visiting Hogsmeade whenever you want, _as long_ , and please keep this in mind, as it doesn’t affect your classes or grades.” New sheers travelled between the students. By this time, Harry was wondering what were the unwelcome news the professor had talked about. He didn’t have to wait long.  “Lastly, we were incapable of finding space for all of you in your old dormitories. This means, you have new ones, each for every house, but you’ll all share a common room.”

   For a moment, there was silence. And then, the complains started. They were reduced to incomprehensible mumbling when the Headmistress threatened to withdraw all the other privileges if they didn’t behave. After a quick explanation about where they would find they’re new rooms along with their belongings, they all stood up and made their way out of the Great Hall. Harry was almost by the door, Ron still complaining next to him, when he heard them.

   “Pansy! Stop! This is not a good idea. You should just lay low for a while!”

   “Oh, please Draco. Grow up. Besides, I own him at least that.”

   “But-“

   “Potter!”

   Looking over his shoulder, he saw Pansy Parkinson advancing towards him, a slight uncomfortable Draco Malfoy behind her. He stopped, letting them near him. Ron and Hermione came to a halt when they realized he wasn’t following them and were beside him at the same time that the Slytherins paused in front of him.

   “Potter.” Pansy repeated, now in a greeting tone.

   “Parkinson.”

   “I just wanted to… to apologize for, you know…”

   Ron interrupted before she had the chance to continue.

   “For trying to hand him to Voldemort, you mean?”  Hermione’s elbow connected a little too late with his ribs, the words leaving him in a furious rush.

   “Shut up, Weasley!” Malfoy intervened, disdain lightning his features. Before any of them could start throwing punches, Harry held up a hand, their imminent insults subsiding.

   “I don’t blame you, Pansy.” He heard the soft gasp coming from the blond, his eyes once again roaming in the boy’s direction. Pansy herself looked quite in shock, either by the use of her first name or for his calm affirmation.

   How could he blame her, though? He had himself walked to his own death, even if nobody knew it, only to protect the ones he loved and cherished. So, how could he blame her for doing the same? For wanting to survive in a war she never chose to make a part of?

   “What- what do you mean?”

_Why are slytherins suddenly so babbling?_

“You were scared and somebody gave you a way out, a chance for you and the people you cared about to survive. I don’t see why I wouldn’t choose the same as you. Do you seriously believe I never wanted to give up during those seven years?”

   The four people around him stared, like he had grown three heads and was saying he was Fluffy’s twin.

   “Thank you.” If he hadn’t seen Pansy’s plum painted lips moving, her soft murmur would have passed unnoticed.

   He smiled tiredly, the day’s emotions hitting him all at once. The idea of a bed sounded great. With one last look at the slim boy standing next to Parkinson, he turned and headed to the new dormitories.

~~~

   The first week had gone in a blink of an eye. Between classes, hiding away from his fans and avoiding autographs, Harry found himself in the potions class, his head falling dangerously close to the desk when sleep overtook him once more.

   “Harry!” Came Hermione’s hiss next to him.

   “Now, I would like you all to choose a partner for the rest of the year, with whom you’ll have to brew the potions during classes and present me a entirely innovative potion at the end of the year.” Slughorn hadn’t even finished his explanation when people started getting up and changing places, picking their partners.

   The raven boy look to his right, his friends shooting him a worried look, but their hands already intertwined.

   “Don’t worry, guys. I’ll just pick someone.” Had he known what he did now, he wished he never made this choice.

   The tired eyes scanned the room, every place taken except for… Malfoy.

   _This will go amazingly._

Without thinking too much about it (after all, they were grown ups right?), he dropped his things next to the blond, startling him.

   “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing, Potter?”

   “Picking a partner like we were told to do.”

   “And what exactly made you think I would want to work with The Golden Boy?” He spat.

   “Look, Malfoy,” Harry said in a slow exhale, not daring to look at him “everyone else already pared up and I don’t see why we can’t work together.”

   “Are you that thick, Scarhead? We-“

   “I see everyone’s already settled. Great! We can start brewing then.” Slughorn’s voice interrupted, blocking the boy’s heated answer. “C’mon people! Instructions can be found in your books.”

    Harry didn’t need someone to tell him twice. Taking the cue to get away from his new partner, he started gathering the ingredients for the potion they would be brewing throughout the class. By the time he came back, Malfoy appeared to be calmer, although still very stiff. He lit the caldron, begging to cut and squeeze the nasty things in front of him, just like the instructions said. 

   Eventually bored from doing nothing, the dark-haired boy asked:

   “What do you need me to do?”

   “Stay still and don’t touch a thing.”

   “You know I am capable of brewing a potion, right?” Assured Harry, feeling quite offended.

   “Ah, yes, of course the Saviour can brew a potion. It went well for you in the first five years, didn’t it?” Snickered Malfoy, starting to stir the now bubbling liquid. “Just shut up so we can both keep our eyebrows on.”

   Harry rolled his eyes, trying to prove to the boy he was wrong but truly, he knew he sucked at the class before six year and even though he didn’t really care about his looks, he would like to keep the hairs on his face.

   And so, he did as Malfoy told him for the first time in his life and sat throughout the class, focusing on the way his partner did every step. The way he his index fingers counted the right number of frogs eyes, or how he held the knife to cut the roots of Asphodel. Even though he would never admit it to himself, there was something hypnotizing and fluid in the way the blonde brew a potion.

   Without coming aware of it, his eyes eventually started to drift from the tasks and focused on the boy itself. The straight nose, the high cheekbones, the perfect cupid bow in the unusual red lips that contrasted with the pale complex… and the eyes. Harry had never noticed the way the grey seemed to stir like a peaceful lake. Malfoy was… pretty. Really pretty.

   As the thought passed his mind, Harry jerked up, drawing attention from the person he was thinking about. Malfoy dismissed it with an uninterested eye-roll and got back to the chore in hand.

_What the fuck am I thinking? This is Draco sodding Malfoy._ He had long made amends with the fact that he was gay. He had broken up with Ginny in summer, instantly telling her the truth. She had been perfect, immediately understanding why he could never lie to himself, after all the lies people had told him in his life. Molly ultimately accepted the idea he wasn’t going to be her son-in-law, but it didn’t really matter seeing that he was like a son to her since she sent him a Weasley sweater.

   But this was his old arch enemy we were talking about. He couldn’t find Malfoy _beautiful._ No! he meant pretty! Beautiful was too much. Merlin, pretty was too much! He found him… interesting? Nope, still too much. Good! Yeah, good was ok.

   He passed the rest of the class avoiding looking at the boy and when it finally ended, Harry was slightly annoyed (of course he wasn’t proud) that Draco had managed to achieve a perfectly made Draught of the Living Death.

~~~

   Five days went by before Harry saw the Slytherin again. He was drinking some coffee in the new common room, sit in the couch in front of the lit fireplace, Ron next to him and Hermione on the floor reading some book. Until Malfoy approached them, his face completely blank.

   “Potter, we need to talk.”

    It was all Harry could do to not splutter coffee everywhere.  Slowly lowering the porcelain to his lap, he raised his eyes to meet the familiar cold stare.

   “About what exactly?”

   “I thought it would be easy for you to guess since you putted us in this situation.”

   It sounded a lot like an accusation, something that a few months ago would have surely started a wand fight, but for some reason the Gryffindor didn’t feel attacked. Ron, on the other hand, was already raising himself from his place.

   “What do you mean, ferret?”

   “I’m sorry, Weasel, it’s just something about me and Potter.” Seeing that the red head had no intention to leave, he smirked “That was the cue for you to leave.”

   “Oh, you little-“

   Harry jumped in before fists started to fly. “Why don’t we go to the Gryffindor room, Malfoy? There’s no one in there now.” He tried not to realize he just invited the blonde to his room. He failed.

    With a shoulder shrug, he answered “Sure.”, and quickly added with a nod “Granger.”

   They left a gaping Hermione and a chin-touching-the-floor Ron behind and headed to the dormitories.

   As soon as they entered the room, Malfoy scrunched his face. “For Merlin’s beard, this is so… red.”

   “Would you prefer pink?”

   “Why are you such a git, Potty?”

   “It’s probably the company.”

   To the raven’s surprise, the prick didn’t even try to answer, simply walking deeper into the room. He was thinner then Harry last remembered, which made sense since he barely showed up at lunches and played more with the food on his plate rather then ate it during dinners. Not that he was paying attention, obviously.

   “So, since I _unwillingly_ have to put up with you, how do you want to do about the potion’s project?” Came Malfoy’s voice, shaking the other boy out of his reverie.

   “Hum… project?” babbled Harry.

   “Merlin, why?” the blonde muttered to himself, rolling his eyes so much you could barely see any iris. “Yes, Potter. What were you doing in class besides worsening my life? Sleeping?”

   “Got to do it somewhere if nightmares won’t let me.” He admitted. He rapidly realized how vulnerable it sounded and swiftly changed back to the subject in hand. “I remember Slughorn saying something about it. What’re you thinking?”

   The light eyes bore into him a little too long until he spoke again.

   “I guess we should start by doing some research, maybe focus on ingredients we rarely or never used in class, see their properties and build something from there.”

   “Seems good to me. Where do you want to start?”

   “You might not believe it, Scarhead, but there’s a place in Hogwarts called library, I don’t know if you ever heard about it but Granger surely did, where they have books that allow you to learn things. It not all about secret chambers and life-risking traps.”

   “I meant when and what books, Malfoy.” Harry drawled, trying to fight a grin much to his own dread.

   “When are you free tomorrow?”

   “My classes end at four o’clock so we can start any time after that.”

   “I leave mine half an hour later so I’ll meet you there. Do try to make something productive without me.”

   Neither of them had realized that, throughout the conversation, somehow they had grown nearer each other ad they had ever been without withdrawing their wands.

   “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Said the Gryffindor, his voice not much above a whisper.

   “Guess you will.” The other boy assured, his tone never higher than the one he heard.

   They parted their ways, still unaware that if one had raised a hand, it could have grazed the other’s skin.

~~~

   The meeting with Malfoy went surprisingly fine. Well, they snickered, and bickered, and fought about who was right or wrong, and eventually had to be told to be quiet by Madam Pince, but both were alive and there hadn’t been any casualties, so Harry guessed it went fine.

   Friday went even better as they managed to not insult the other out loud, settling by whispered argues and accusations. Malfoy even let Harry hand him the bottles and crush some beetle’s eggs.

   And so started a routine: meeting up on Thursdays before leaving to dinner, where Harry would deny to himself and his friends that he was watching the blonde, and then listening to Slughorn’s boring voice before brewing a new potion on Fridays. They never talked much, especially outside the library or classes, only nodding at each other when they crossed pathways. If they were by chance in the common room at the same time, Harry would be by the fire with Ron and Hermione, or Dean and Seamus, sometimes Neville, Luna and Ginny joining them. And Draco would be at the furthest corner, Parkinson and Zabini by his side, normally drinking firewhisky that one of them had managed to smuggle into the castle.

   Weeks passed, each one bringing a more comfortable environment between the boys. They still didn’t talk much, always avoiding any theme related to their past or the war, afraid it would break the fragile alliance they had managed to build. On the other hand, their project was progressing fast and interesting and they were, to everyone’s shock, top of potion’s class (mostly thanks to the slytherin, even though he once said Harry was not that bad of a help).

   Of course all this was really good and Harry almost dared to say Malfoy was becoming a… friend. However, it wasn’t helping the Chosen Boy’s homosexuality as he found himself ogling the blonde, taking in every little detail of what he did, the way he drank his coffee in the morning (absolutely black, no sugar), how he bit his lip when he was thinking, when his fingers tucked the strands of hair that were no longer held by a bottle of gel. It was becoming really hard to ignore the fact that his partner was not just good, he was _attractive._ Very, very attractive.

   All this took dangerous proportions when, one day, Ginny was sitting next to him in their couch, discussing quidditch tactics, and Malfoy came down the stairs, only some black jeans and a white shirt, first button undone and not even tucked in, covering his pale skin. Harry stared so long, never having seen the boy so casually dressed and Merlin’s tits he looked _hot_ , that only drifted his eyes away from him when Ginny whispered in his ear “Harry, you should probably clean the drool on your chin.”. She laughed hard as the raven blushed and muttered a weak “Shut up, Gin.”. He risked one more look at Malfoy, finding him staring back, a strange semblance marking his features.    

   A few days later, the boy interpellated him about Ginny, while they were brewing another smelly potion.

   “So, you and the weasele… Weasley girl. It seems serious. When’s the weeding?”

   “What, me and Ginny?” he laughed. “Call me Morgan because I’m a freeman, Malfoy.”

   “You usually don’t make much sense, Scarhead, but that had to be your worst.”

   Smile plastered on his face, he explained. “Sorry, I tend to forget you’re not familiar with muggle culture. Me and Ginny broke up this summer.”

   “Really? Why? Problems in paradise?”

   “Let’s just say we have different tastes, so it wouldn’t work out.”

   Malfoy hummed and the only words they exchanged again were “gimme that” or “cut these”.

   Weeks started to pass too slowly for Harry, who felt strangely disappointed when potions class finished every Friday. His friends, on the contrary, were worried about him.

   “Mate, we need to talk.” Ron blurted one day, out of the blue, during Charms class.

   “Now is not the time, Ronald.” Warned Hermione, pausing from taking notes.

   “Mione, he’s been with him _every week_. They even talk outside classes sometimes!”

   Harry, whose view was fixed in a certain blond hair a few roads ahead, turned his head a little.

   “Guys, what the hell are you talking about?”

   “Can we talk about this after?”

   “Hermione, Flitwick is talking about Undetectable Extension Charm. I will literally accio your beaded handbag unless you start explaining.”

   “Well, it’s just that… we think…”

   It was Ron who completed the thought.

   “We think you’re spending a lot of time with Malfoy and becoming a little obsessed with him. Kind of like sixth year, mate.”

   “We just want to make sure you’re ok, Harry.” Reassured the girl.

   “Yeah, I mean, what if he Imperiused you or spilled something in your drink?”

   A wave of protectiveness crossed him.

   “You should remember, Ron, that I’ve been able to shake an _Imperious_ since fifth year. And, really? Spilled something in my drink? From the other side of the Great Hall?”

   “What are you now? Pals? He’s a dirty Death Eater!”

   The death glare the red head received made Hermione squeeze his arm to shut him up, but it was too late.

   “Tell me, Ron: why the fucking hell did we fight, if people are going to continue judging or marginalizing others?”

   With a dry wave of his wand, he extended the box in front of him, got up, left it on Flitwick’s desk and padded out of the room. He later discovered the professor had attributed him a top mark for it.

   Malfoy, obviously, buggered him about it on Thursday.

   “You didn’t beat Granger yet, although she looked terrified with the idea.”

   Recognizing the Gryffindor had no intentions to answer, he tried again.

   “So… what made you do the I’m-angry-with-something walk?” 

   “Just leave it, Malfoy. It’s already solved.” In the same day, Ron had made a sheepish apology.

   “Oh, come on Potter. It’s not like you’re actually reading that book so you might as well talk about it.”

   He sighed. What bad would it make?

   “My friends don’t exactly like you.”

   “Oh.” He said softly. “I never believed they did.”

   “Yeah, but… it’s not fair.”

   “Why isn’t it, Potter?”

   “You’re different now. You’re not the ponce you used to be and you haven’t insulted them once since the year started. Well, maybe Ron, but he does too. Plus, you don’t think you’re in the top of the world anymore. You’re just like everyone else in this castle.”

   The absent scratch on the left arm hadn’t escaped Harry’s sight.

   “Potter, I called your best-friend mud… mudblood for years and thought that your other best-friend was a blood traitor. That’s not something that goes away easily.”

   “You changed.”

   “Not everyone is like you, Potter. Not everyone accepts it.” Harry reckoned they were engulfing in their first personal talk after that last one in the train, but the blonde didn’t stop. “Actually, I wanted to thank you. For Pansy, I mean. What you said to her really helped. She was pretty crushed because of what happened.”

   “I meant every word, Malfoy. I always do.” He assured.

   “You would never give someone to the Dark Lord. You’re too noble and care too much.”

   “Maybe.” Was Harry’s last answer. No one knew how he walked to his death, and he would like to keep it that way.

~~~

   Harry had noticed how Malfoy was always hunching his back, shoulders tense and head ducked, specially walking through Hogwarts corridors. It seemed to be his new demeanor, instead of his former superior walk. Harry never understood precisely why. Now he did.

   Christmas was just around the corner, the frenzy of the last school week affecting everybody. There were bags to pack, delayed homework to deliver and forgotten presents to buy. It seemed like everyone ran instead of walking. Except for Harry.

   He wasn’t going to the Burrow this year, much to the family’s disappointment. He had decided to give Ron and Hermione some time alone and he didn’t feel like having a family Christmas. Not this year. All his homework was on time (not being able to sleep has it’s perks) and presents were bought. And now, he was left wondering the corridors, nothing to do as Malfoy had cancelled their weekly plans so he could pack his things. Even if he was a little bored, and ok _maybe_ a little upset, it gave him time to think in the present he was giving the Slytherin once he got back from Malfoy Manner.

   _I’m still not sure it will be a good idea… what if-._ He was almost by the end of the corridor when he heard it. It wasn’t exactly a strangled cry, but it was a little more than a sound of discomfort. And then:

   “Tell me, you Death Eater scum, did you cry as well when your friends walked into Hogwarts and destroyed our home? Or did you _laugh_ when they killed our loved ones?”

   His wand was already in his hand by the time he turned the corner, a horrible pressure twisting his guts. He saw them as soon as he walked into the dark passage, just in time to see a body with thin limbs sent against the wall with a muffled sound as the body hit the rock. Malfoy fell to the floor, not even a groan escaping him. There were five peoples forming the group, but it was a broad Gryffindor who raised his wand, ready for the next spell. Cormac McLaggen.

   Harry was faster, flicking his wand with a nonverbal _Expelliarmus_ and sending the boys wand flying to his hand. It was all he could do not to break it right there.

   “I would advise you to don’t do that. To not even show your face to me again because I won’t just warn you then.” He spoke slowly and dangerously low, yet the odium dripping from his voice made everybody else freeze. He could feel himself shaking, his magic trying to burst outside his body. Closing the distance with a few unhurriedly steps, arm never lowering, he spoke again, this time harsher “Go, before you find that my patience it’s not as big as I believe.”

   “But, Harry…”

   “ _Go.”_ His hiss could have been mistaken by parseltongue, sharp as it was.

   The group didn’t wait for another warning, hurriedly making their way out of the dim corridor. He turned his head slightly, enough to discern their shapes disappearing. He was kneeling by Malfoy’s side the next second, the boy still with his face against the cold floor.

   “Bloody hell, Malfoy. Are you ok?” He scrambled to help him get up, getting a weak shove in return, as the Slythering tried to do it by himself. Damn Slytherin pride. “Let me help you, git!”

   “I don’t fucking need your help, Potter.” He spat, even though his shaking arms could barely hold him. “Go play hero elsewhere.” He scrambled against the floor, finally quitting and leaning his back to the wall, managing to stay sit.

   Anger flared through Harry when he was able to discern the bleeding cut in the blond’s cheek. Next thing he knew, he was cradling his face, a murmured spell ready to leave his lips.

   “What the hell, Potter?”

   He pushed Malfoy’s hands away when he tried to pry away from Harry, and finished the charm, the cut immediately knitting itself and closing, leaving behind the little stream of blood. He suddenly realized how close he was to Malfoy. How close their _faces_ were. He also realized he didn’t mind. Much on the contrary.

   “It probably won’t leave a scar, but you should check with Madam Pomfrey.”

   The boy just gaped at him.

   “Where, in Merlin’s beard, did you learn Healing Charms?”

   The Gryffindor tried not to look at the red lips moving. He really did. He also didn’t succeed.

   He was eventually able to depart a little from Malfoy, but still keeping him at an arm’s length.

   “Oh, that. It’s a basic spell from the Auror Program. I’ve been studying them with Hermione.”

   “You would think they wouldn’t make the Golden Boy apply to the recruitment program. I was expecting them to just offer you a place in the trainee program.”

   “They did.” Confirmed the raven, like he was commenting on the weather.

   The grey eyes bore into him again and… did they flicker to his lips? _Stop imagining things, Harry. Get a grip. This is Malfoy we’re talking about._

   “What…” He cleaned his throat. “What made you decline it?”

   “It wouldn’t be fair. I hadn’t even finished my studies. I wouldn’t be ready.”

   “How Gryffindor of you.” He sneered.

    They finally got up and Harry felt the need to add:

   “Please, go check everything’s ok with Pomfrey. You hit that wall pretty hard.”

   “Do me a favour, Potter, and don’t go all Saviour on me. I don’t need it”

   Before he could stop himself, he caught the other’s arm, cold but surprisingly firm.

   “You know you could have used your wand, right? No one would blame you, Malfoy. You don’t _deserve_ it.”

   His features hardened before he answered.

   “I told you once, Potter, not everybody sees things the way you do.” His next statement was nothing more than a whisper, not made for him to hear it. Even though he did. “Besides, this wand doesn’t really work.”

   Just like that, Harry’s decision was made.

~~~

   If Christmas break served for something, it was for one thing only: with all the free time Harry had to himself, he discovered he was utterly, irreversibly fucked up. He fancied Draco Malfoy.

   After that last incident, the boy didn’t seem to want to leave Harry’s mind for a second. He kept imagining how close they lips were, what would have been if he had lowered his head a fraction on that day. He even _dreamt_ about it, for fuck’s sake. He had long admitted to himself the Slytherin was really, really attractive. But now he actually wanted to _snog_ him. Imagine his dread when, in the first day of Christmas break, he found a still sleepy Malfoy coming down the stairs to the common room. And to worsen things up (because Harry’s life was never that easy) the bloody blonde had the sexiest groggy face he had ever seen. Groggy faces aren’t supposed to be _sexy_! They’re supposed to make you laugh at the other, not catch your breath!

   He decided that the best idea would be to pretend he didn’t notice Malfoy had stayed in the castle (which kind of hurt a little, since it meant that the boy had lied to him) and ignore the fact that he wanted to suck at the lip the blonde was chewing, a habit he had when he was going through something on his mind and…

   _Merlin, stop thinking about snogging him. You seriously have to-_

   “Hum, Potter?” Came a haughty voice in front of him.

   _Shit._

   “Oh, Malfoy. I hadn’t realized you stayed at-“

   “Spare me, Potter. You’re as sneaky as a troll in a library. I know you saw me four days ago in here when I came down from my dormitory.”

   “I…Well… It’s…“ He babbled messily, no idea of what to say.

   “Eloquent as ever, I see.” He sighed, the swarming eyes losing some of its indignation “I just wanted to know why you kept ignoring me. I mean, not ignoring me but… an ‘Hi’ would have been nice, I guess. If it’s because of the other day’s incident…”

   Harry chose to go with the (half) truth.

   “No! No, it’s just that you told me you’d go home during Christmas and so I presumed you had said it because you didn’t want to be bothered.”

   Comprehension lighted Malfoy’s expression, his face immediately softening. He almost seemed… relieved?

   “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I was going back home when I told you that, however my mother desires to visit my father and I don’t feel ready to see him yet… I assumed you’d go with Weasley and Granger and didn’t foresee the need to warn you of my change of plans. I apologize.”

   “Malfoy, drop the formalities. You’re talking like you’re addressing to the Queen of England. It was just a misunderstood. We’re not going to stop being friends because of this.” The Gryffindor laughed, amused.

   “Wha- Wait, we’re friends?”

   “Well, you’re a friend to me. You’re fun to be around when you’re not being a ponce, I actually enjoy talking to you once we stop snarking at each other and you’re not that bad at discussing quidditch tactics. So yeah, I’d say you’re a friend”

   If Harry had ever imagined the breath-taking _smile_ that creeped through Malfoy’s face, he would have long before told him those exact words.

   “Why thank you, Potter. I’d say you’re a friend as well, but you’re just Scarhead to me, so…”

   Harry threw him a pillow.

   “So… since we’re both staying in the Castle, do you want to continue our research for potions?”

   Actually, no. He didn’t. He wanted to stay in the cosy common room, talking to Malfoy if possible. But he knew the other would never agree on it, so he answered:

   “Yeah, sure. Probably better to advance on it now.”

   “Great, let’s go then. I was thinking, and we could add…”

   The Gryffindor followed the Slytherin out of the common room, while the second continued to explain all the ideas he had to their project. If someone asked him, he would say he heard everything Malfoy had said but, in reality, the smile on his face when Harry had said they were friends was still etched on his mind. And he started wondering how good of an idea would be to find your _friend_ beautiful…

~~~

   Three days had gone in a blink of an eye, barely every moment spent next to Malfoy since all their friends went back home for Christmas, and Harry now found himself in front of the blonde, drinking a butterbear at the Three Broomsticks. It almost sounded surreal to him. Who would have thought that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy could fraternize? Or actually be around each other without withdrawing their wands.

   The snow outside was falling softly, a white sheet already formed, printing every step. It reminded Harry of third year and his escapes from the castle with the Marauders Map and the cloak. It gave him a sense of peace, like he was thirteen all over again.

  Finishing his drink, Draco resumed the conversation.

   “I think Christmas was always my favourite time of the year. I mean, every kid thinks that because we receive presents, but there was always something about the snow. How about you?”

   The Dursleys came to his mind uninvited, the peace the weather had gave him now draining out of him. “Yeah, something like that.” Peeking at the blond, he saw he was waiting for him to develop, so he chose the easy way out. “Want to go for a walk? Since you like snow so much.”

   There was a glint in Malfoy’s grey eyes, gone before Harry could even acknowledge it, making him believe it was just his imagination or the reflexion of lights.

   “Sure. You finished?”

   “Yeah. Let’s go.”

   Once they stepped outside, Malfoy tighten the green scarf around his neck and stuffed his hands in the black coat pockets, hunching his shoulders. Harry, on the other side, felt no cold at all. He was relieved they finally had left behind the crowed space and the curious eyes that followed their every movement. He also might have been a little too delighted for being able to witness the snowflakes falling in Malfoy’s dark clothes… and blond lashes.

   They roamed a little, no destiny defined and eventually ended up a little far from the Shrieking Shack, just where…

   “Oh my god!” Harry exclaimed before laugh took over him. He continued to laugh, each time harder when he peered at the boy, who was looking at him like Voldemort’s face just appeared in the back of his head (for real, he knew the feeling).

   By the time his laugh subsided, he was sprawled on the freezing snow, hands clenched in his belly to keep it from hurting even more. Malfoy kept watching him, still dumbstruck, although his irritation was now evident.

   “Are you planning on telling me why you just fell on the floor laughing your brains out, Potter? Or am I supposed to call Trelawney so she can try and guess?”

   “I’m sorry, Malfoy.” He apologized, his voice still filled with amusement and wiping the tears in his eyes. “Remember third year? When you were right here insulting Hermione and Ron?” He got up, his clothes drenched from the melted ice. “And you and your friends were suddenly attacked by an invisible force?”

   “Yes, I remember. But how could you… “Realization filled his features. And then “MERLIN’S BALLS, IT WAS YOU!”

   Harry had no time to duck, Malfoy colliding with him and pushing him to the floor again. He tried to get up (while laughing again) but the boy prevented him from going any further by simply sitting on his lap and start smacking him. The Gryffindor knew the other wasn’t really trying to hurt him, he was just pretty annoyed. It made him laugh harder.

   “Stop laughing, you bastard! You scared the shit out of me that day. You fucking prick! And you never thought you should tell me? Who goes around and scare little thirteen years old kids? And how _the hell_ didn’t I see you? Actually, how the hell didn’t I predict it was you?”

   “I can tell you if you stop trying to hit me- OUCH!” _Ok that’s it._ Getting elbowed in the ribs was _not_ admissible. Without waiting for the next blow, he grabbed the skinny wrists, swung his legs and turned them over. Holding the pale boy’s hands above his head and against the white floor beneath them, Harry asked:

   “Will you stop trying to give me bruises, you git? Bloody hell Malfoy, it was five years ago. I’ll tell you what happened if you stop moving for a bit!”

   The Slytherin stilled.

   He realized, a little too late, that he was laid right on top of the boy, his wrists pinned against the snow and Malfoy’s hands probably burning from the cold by now. Their faces were mere inches apart, breaths almost mingling. The problem was… Harry didn’t mind. He didn’t care at all, because he’d been wanting Draco for weeks now and he finally had the boy under him, grey eyes staring at him, the red and wet lips contrasting with all the white around them. He could just _lean down_ a little and-

   “I would like to feel my arse again one day, Scarhead.”

   It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice down his back. He woke up from his reverie with a jolt and jerked back to his feet, allowing the other to do the same. Before Harry had time to speak, Malfoy continued.

   “Sorry for the elbow, Potter.” He did appear regretful, so the raven nodded. “It’s getting late. Let’s go back to the castle? I could do a hot shower and tomorrow’s Christmas so we should probably rest.”

      He wanted to say no. He wanted to apologize for what happened, but Malfoy seemed oblivious to their former position even though his hair was all dishevelled. So he kept quiet and followed him to Hogwarts, their walk slightly uncomfortable and heavily silent.

   Once they arrived to the common room, Harry felt like he would explode, so he blurted before both went up to their dormitories:

   “It was because of the Invisibility Cloak by the way. The reason you didn’t see me in that day.”

   “Oh. Right. Ok. See you tomorrow then.”

   Harry didn’t bother to wonder why the skinny boy hadn’t asked what the Invisibility Cloak was. As far as he knew, Malfoy had probably heard the tale when he was younger, and he surely had seen the Elder Wand when Voldemort lived in his house so it was just a matter of adding two plus two. Or maybe the boy was just tired. Harry was, so he figured that was probably the reason.

   He had a hot shower, laid back in his bed trying to read some book Malfoy wanted him to for the project and promptly fell asleep, skipping dinner.

   He woke up with his own screams. Again. It was the third time that night and it was only some minutes after one. He threw an arm over his eyes and sighed. It was no use to try and sleep again. The nightmare’s images were still etched to his mind. He got up, his bare feet stepping on the cold wood floor, helping to remind him he was alive and it was all over. The freezing temperature in the room, however, was becoming unpleasant even if he wasn’t exactly cold. He could have casted a warming charm, but he still preferred the cosy feeling of fire and a good couch. With this in his mind, he went down stairs, back into the silent and peaceful common room.

   His right foot had just hit the last step when he saw him. The usually blond, almost white, strands were stained silver by the moonlight, sprawled in the back of the couch. Long, pale fingers were rubbing at the eyes, whose colour Harry knew that could compete with mercury and win. From his position and in the dark, the raven boy could only discern a little of Malfoy’s profile, but enough to see his lips slightly opened, allowing him to exhale deeply. A shiver travelled through the thin body and Harry wondered why he hadn’t lit the fire.

   He knew he should walk away. Malfoy seemed like he didn’t want to be disturbed and he himself wasn’t sure where they stood after the afternoon’s events. At first, Harry was sure the boy hadn’t noticed what happened but, in the end, the Slytherin was more distant than usual.

   He wasn’t sure if it was his inner Gryffindor or if he had a wish to be hexed but, when he came to himself, he was standing next to the blonde, green eyes fixed into the other’s closed ones. Until he opened them.

   “ _Fuck!_ Potter, you sneaky prick, you almost gave me a heart attack. What are you? A slytherin? Since when are gryffindors so quiet?” Malfoy was panting lightly, a hand covering his heart.

   “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I was just…”

   “What do you want, Potter?” He asked tiredly. If the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, Harry betted that Malfoy had slept has much has him.

  “Couldn’t sleep. Thought that a cosy fire could help.”

   “Well, this one’s taken so you’ll have to try again tomorrow.” He declared dryly. Harry tried not to be hurt by the boy’s dismissal and nudge his legs.

   “Don’t be a bastard. The fire is not even lit and it’s Christmas. Scoot over.”

   Malfoy huffed irritably but gave Harry some space to sit. He felt him shiver once again and decided to ask:

   “Are you cold? Do you want me to light the fire?”

   “ _I’m fine._ ” He spat at the same time he hugged himself.

   Rolling his eyes, Harry concentrated, twirled his right hand, and a hot breeze filled the air in front of them as flames came to life in the fireplace.

   “Show-off.” Malfoy muttered next to him. Harry ignored him.

   “So, nightmares?” Asked Harry timidly.

   “Look, Potter, I don’t need… Wait. What?”

   The Gryffindor fidgeted a little and stared to his hands unblinking. He wasn’t sure this was something he was ready to share but…

   “That’s the reason I’m awake. I was wondering what was yours.” He confessed, his voice not much above a whisper.

   “Straight to the point, hun? Not so much of Slytherin in you after all.”

   “The Sorting Hat would disagree with you.”

   “And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

   “Nothing important.” He chuckled, the memory of his first day in Hogwarts still vivid even after years.

   “You know, you do that a lot. Talking about something but ending up not explaining it.” Malfoy complained, a little pout tugging at his lips.

   _Good Merlin, since_ when _are pouts so attractive?_

“I do? I never noticed.” Replied Harry, shrugging his shoulders. “I thought you didn’t want to talk though. You changed your mind?” He teased, a smirk forming in his face. There was just something so endearing about getting Malfoy all frustrated…

   “No, but since I seem to be stuck with you here, I might as well do something productive with it, like trying to understand you for once in my life.”

   Harry chuckled a little more and by the corner of his eyes was able to see Malfoy relaxing and shaking his head in defeat, a little smile fighting is way into the perfectly shaped lips.

   Silence enveloped them and Harry would be worried if it wasn’t for the fact that this one was comfortable, not even a tad similar to the one they had shared that afternoon. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, both sit in the couch, staring at the burning fire. It wasn’t until their elbows brushed that the raven became aware of how closed they were. For a moment, he was startled, thinking that his subconscious had forced him closer to the (irrefutable gorgeous) boy next to him. He then later realized, as the blonde locks were brushing his shoulder, that it was actually Malfoy that had neared him, probably seeking more heat. He was about to cast a warming charm over them with his wand when he suddenly remembered, surprising the other who almost fell from his spot.

   “Malfoy! It’s Christmas!”

   “Merlin, Scarhead, will you stop trying to kill me today? Yes, it’s Christmas Mr. Obvious, what about it?”

   Harry stilled, a blush creeping through his face, as he articulated slowly:

   “It means I can give you your present…”

   Malfoy stared at him, eyes so bulged he believed that they would come out of the orbits. The next second, the blonde was on his feet, his hands almost tearing his hair out. Which would be a shame in Harry’s opinion.

   “What do you mean ‘present’? There is no present! I don’t have a fucking present to you. I didn’t even know it was suppose us to get a present for each other!”

   “Malfoy, will you relax? I was not expecting something from you. I just… You see… It’s… ah, forget it. Just stay here!” Demanded Harry, already climbing the stairs two steps at the time. He searched madly through his bag, clothes flying everywhere until he finally wrapped his hand around the rectangular box. He flied again backstairs and stood in front of Malfoy, panting lightly, while the other looked at him in suspicion.

   “Here.” Handed Harry, the box standing between them. After two beats, Malfoy took the present in his hand, silver eyes never leaving the green ones.

   “I don’t know what you had in mind, Potter, but don’t expect-“ His words faltered and came to a halt as he took in the sight the shape in front of him. “Po- Potter. Wha- What is this?” He questioned, the voice just a whisper.

   “Open it.” Harry insisted, taking a place next to the skinny boy.

   Carefully, like a Blast-Ended Skrewt would jump out of the tiny box, he lifted the lid. The Gryffindor could tell the moment the other saw the polished wood, cradled by a satin pillow, his eyes bulging once more, mouth hanging open as he gaped at his former wand.

   “I thought you might want your old wand back… and, well, Christmas seemed like an appropriate time to return it…. Specially after you said your new one wasn’t working that well.”

   Harry could almost _see_ the soft light that enveloped Malfoy’s arm when he grabbed the wand with his left hand. A breeze lightly shook the soft locks on the boy’s face, as if someone had whispered to him.

   The extasiated look on Malfoy’s face made Harry’s heart skip a beat. The grey eyes were shinning like Harry had never witnessed, a huge _grin_ allowing a quick flash at the perfect white teeth. He just kept gazing at the Slytherin, wondering how could someone be so beautiful without even trying to. That was, until the smile twisted into a sneer. The raven saw Malfoy’s body language change like a sunset: first it’s there, and then you blink and it’s gone. Instead of complete happiness, the boy’s face was now contorted into full rage, shoulders shaking from the attempt to keep calm.

   “Are you telling me, _Potter_ , that you had my wand all this time…” he asked slowly, voice colder than the snow where they had fallen today “and it only occurred to you to give it back _now?_ ”

   It was not true. Harry had wanted to hand it back since the trials. On the day he spoke in behalf of the Malfoy family, he had taken the wand with him so he could return it, but the blonde and his mom disappeared right after Lucius Malfoy was convicted. And, to be honest, with all that happened between them throughout the term, he kind of forgot about it until a few weeks before, when he decided to offer it as a Christmas present. However, judging by Malfoy’s deadly stare, it probably wasn’t one of his best ideas.

   “Hum… You see… when you put it like that, it sounds a little bad. But I wanted to return it a long time ago, I just… thought it would be cool to give it as a present?” He tried to explain “Guess not.” He concluded when the Slytherin shot him a pointed look, small red lightnings escaping the tip of the dark wood in his hand.

   It was almost scary how slowly and meditated Malfoy lowered his wand back into the box, closing it and tucking it fondly between him and the couch arm. Something that was not slow at all, was how he jumped against Harry, both boys falling into the couch cushions. First thing he knew, a fist collided with his jaw, which made a loud crack. A sense of déjà-vu hit the Gryffindor as he felt Malfoy straddle him once more in less than twenty-four hours, except this time, he was really punching Harry’s face.

   “You. Fucking. Utter. _Arsehole.”_ He managed to articulate, every word marked by a new punch. He continued to hit the boy everywhere he could reach, slapping his chest or shaking him hard enough to make his head hit the soft cushions each time.  “I had to go around and cast spells that were so weak it seemed a first year had casted them. My new wand _hated me_ , and all the while, you had my wand wrapped in dirty hold socks in your _dormitory_? You stupid-“

   It was only when his ribs were getting sore that Harry, taking advantage of a small pause as Malfoy smacked his chest with both hands again, folded his arms around the other boy’s back and turned them over, both immediately falling to the floor, a soft ‘uff’ leaving the blonde’s mouth when his back hit the floor. They were panting loudly, contained fury travelling their bodies. Harry’s hands were on each side of Malfoy’s head, slim cold fingers squeezing his upper arms, and their eyes locked. Harry was swimming, breath caught in his throat as he lost himself in the silver sea that were Malfoy’s iris. He felt the boy still under him, hands clenching in his biceps, but he paid them no mind. His eyes, inch by inch, took in sight the sharp contours of the face beneath his, until they landed on the soft-looking, red-bitten lips. He wanted to feel them so bad, discover if they were as inviting and warm as they appeared. A fresh breath escaped the slim boy, Harry’s body weakening as the blonde’s smell hit his senses. And he no longer knew where he was, the common room fading from his view, the heat from the fire meaningless in comparison with the warmth emanating from the boy below him. He felt so numb, lost in the starry eyes, that he never realised how his head bowed down, wet lips brushing, until he closed the remaining gap. It was _brilliant_. The raven felt like all his body was burning stronger than the fireplace beside them. And Merlin, Malfoy’s lips were _perfect_ , so much better than he could have ever imagined.

   It was only when a moan filled Harry’s ears, that he grasped what was happening. Malfoy was _kissing him back_. Fervently. His hands were no longer stilled in his arms, having moved to the back of his neck, pulling at the hair in there and forcing him closer. His arms eventually gave in and he supported his weight on his elbows, most of his body now in contact with the one beneath him. Thin blonde locks intertwined with his fingers, the other hand resting in Malfoy’s right temple and a thumb brushing his cheekbone softly. A new moan echoed through the air around them and it took a moment for Harry to realize it was him who had produced it. The Slytherin, cunning as only them could be, parted his lips a little more and the tip of a soft pink tongue attentively licked Harry’s bottom lip, as if asking for permission, before entering the other’s mouth, immediately lacing with Harry’s tongue.

   He had no idea for how long they stayed like that, lips sliding against the other and tongues moving in a slow dance to a song only they knew. Maybe it was only mere seconds, maybe minutes or an hour. All he knew was that he didn’t want it to stop, he wanted to keep feeling Malfoy’s hands on the small of his back, long fingers kneading softly at his hips.

   “Draco.” He whispered, breaths mingling.

   The boy stilled. Harry separated his lips from the other’s swollen ones, a frightening feeling cooling him to his bones. He had almost no time to acknowledge it before Malfoy shoved him, getting to his feet in a record time. Harry’s mind, on the other hand, was still slightly dazed, focused only enough to discern Malfoy’s slim figure hurriedly climbing the stairs to the Slytherin rooms.

   “Malfoy, wait! I’m-“

   He heard the door close.

   “…sorry.” He finished.

   He fell back, hitting the floor with a thud, arm covering his eyes.

   “ _Fuck_ ”

~~~

   Harry felt like shit. He hadn’t slept one hour throughout the night, instead spending it with worries and angry at himself. He had blown things up. All the friendship he managed to build with Malfoy, since the train ride, was now destroyed, just because he wasn’t able to control a bit more. He didn’t even know if he would be able to look in his direction again, the shame of what happened gnawing his insides. That was why, at eleven in a Christmas morning, he was still laid down in his bed, presents to open, and breakfast to attend. Only when his stomach protested for the third time for lack of food, did he reluctantly stretched and got up. He decided it wouldn’t be a Christmas morning if he didn’t open his presents (and what better excuse not to go downstairs and face a certain blonde) before breakfast, so he started to rip the wrapped gifts in the end of his bed.

   Molly, as usual, had sent a homemade fudge and a new cosy sweater, this time in dark green, which matched his eyes surprisingly well. Ron, knowing how Harry’s quidditch gloves were worn, had bought him the latest model available in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Hermione, of course, had given him a Self-Filling Quill, which he had wanted for months, and a book Harry wasn’t sure he was ever going to read, since it was about Ancient Runes.

   He truly thought in starting that book, just so he could have an excuse to not go down to the Great Hall, but at the fourth grumble from his belly, he had to give up and feed himself. He kept his head low all the way into the first floor, taking longer paths, only to avoid bumping into Malfoy. Once he was about to enter the Great Hall, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and urged his guts to stop clenching. This was ridiculous! He had killed Voldemort and was now afraid of a boy he kissed last night. Yes, ok, it was his ex-nemesis, but it was only a kiss. He could try and apologize, or say he was drunk. Or he could do exactly what he was doing, which was shaming Godric Gryffindor, and sit at the table without lifting his eyes

   He ate as fast as he could, only pausing enough to apprehend the number of people in the room with his peripherical vision. Most people had gone home for Christmas and the majority of the remaining ones had already eaten, so Harry found himself surrounded by only a few Hufflepuffs, one or two Ravenclaws, absolutely no Gryffindors and… thank god, no Slytherins. After making sure there weren’t silver eyes watching him, he managed to relax a little and enjoy the treacle tart in front of him.

   He had just left the Great Hall behind, cursing himself for not bringing the Marauders Map so he could avoid unpleasant encounters, when he felt a hand closing at his arm, yanking him to a dark corner. He had no time to reacted though, as soft lips met his in a heated kiss, almost desperate. Lips that were unexpectedly familiar. He was slightly aware of the cold wall against his back, two hands grabbing at his hips and hair, and a low ‘humm’ escaping his kisser. And Merlin’s beard, it was amazing.

   “Wha- Wait, Malfoy…” He mumbled, trying to separate their mouths just an inch so he could talk. The boy complied, only to have his lips brushing Harry’s jaw and then nipping at his neck softly, the faint smell of coconut shampoo and honey filling the Harry’s senses as Malfoy dipped his head on the crook of his neck. “Ahh.. Malfoy…” He tried again.

   “Where were you all _morning_?” Malfoy mouthed against the sensible skin.

   “In my dormitory. Why?”

   “I was looking for you.” He admitted, as if it was the most obvious answer. He kissed Harry again, slower this time.

   “You were… Malfoy, stop!” He turned them around, now the Slytherins back pressed against the wall. He was already breathing erratically, but his breath caught in his throat when he looked at Malfoy’s well kissed lips. He wasn’t sure why he made him stop since he just wanted to keep snogging him.

   “Yes, Potter?” He drawled, eyes fixed in Harry’s lips as well.

   “I…You… You ran away yesterday. I thought I ruined everything.”

   “You don’t kiss that badly, Potter. It was actually very enjoyable.”

   “God, you’re such a git. Why the hell did you went away, Malfoy?” He gritted. “I haven’t slept all night.”

   “I can tell, you look like shit. Ok, ok! I’m sorry!” He said hurriedly when Harry stepped away, quickly grabbing his robes and pulling him back. “Yesterday I… it was a bit of a shock, yeah? It’s not every day that your arch-enemy snogs you. Brilliantly, if I might add.”

   “Really? I mean, you weren’t that bad either.” Emended Harry, glad the dark corner where they were pressed together didn’t allow Malfoy to completely discern his sudden blush.

   “Pfff, please Potter, I had my fair share of snogging.”

   The Gryffindor wasn’t happy about it, but also couldn’t control the rush of jealous that hit him right there. However, instead of throwing a tantrum, he chose to provoke Malfoy.

   “Oh, yeah?” He began, heads getting closer, lips brushing Malfoy’s so softly it was almost like they were there, but weren’t “So I suppose I can go away then, reckoning you have other people to entertain yourself with.”

   Malfoy practically growled “Don’t you dare, Potter.” A hand came to rest in the back of Harry’s neck, trying to force their mouths together. But the boy stayed still, eventually moving away a little when the blonde raised his head to try and lock their lips. Now, he whimpered “Are you going to kiss me or not?”.

   Harry, unable to control himself any longer, nipped at his neck in a particular harsh contact between teeth and skin. By the deep sound Malfoy made, he didn’t seem to mind much. The raven, still not satisfied with the present access to the marble skin, pulled at the knot in the green and silver tie, undoing the first shirt button, and immediately caressing the front dip in the sharp collar bones with his tongue. “Thought you had your fair share of snogs?” He breathes.

   “Yeah, but now I want to snog _you_ ” Malfoy replies breathlessly before grabbing Harry’s chin between his thumb and index, yanking the boy’s head, and finally kissing him.

   This time, it wasn’t soft, nor slow. It felt like they were back into the quidditch pitch, both fighting for control, in a game that it was only theirs. And just like when they were competing on their brooms, the raven caught the snitch and Malfoy sagged, only the wall and Harry’s arms holding him.

~~~

   His life had never made much sense. He was used to it by now. Nevertheless, the last three days had still surprised him, even if not for a bad reason. Malfoy and Harry barely lost sight on each other, except for sleeping and… nope, that was it. They were always searching for the potions project or kissing. Right this instant, the blonde’s legs were straddling his hips, Harry’s mouth being expertly snogged by sweet pumped lips. They were in the Gryffindor’s dormitory, after a studying session where neither of them was able to concentrate. On one side, because they kept peering at one another, biting their lips in anticipation, and on the other side, because something was bugging Harry’s mind.

   “Hum, Malfoy?”

   “Yes, Potter?” He murmured, fingers brushing the boy’s cheeks and neck.

   “It’s just… classes are about to start and people will come back. What are we going to tell them?”

   The other boy stilled and slowly sat in his thighs. After staring at him with an odd expression, he stated carefully:

   “There is nothing to tell them, Potter. We’re snogging, we enjoy it, and that’s it. There is absolutely no need to tell anyone in the castle what is happening.”

   Harry promptly ignored the disappointment sting that hit him. It’s not like he had something to hope for. What they were doing had nothing special about it, there weren’t any feelings mixed into the equation. Harry plus Malfoy equals snogging. That was it. What the blonde had said had never seemed more obvious.

   “Yes, yes, of course. I just meant, like, if someone caught us or anything.”

   “We’ll just be careful. There’s no need to worry.” He soothed, laying on top of him once more and resuming the incredible kiss Harry had interrupted with his stupid concerns. Although, it seemed he hadn’t learnt not to interrupt, since he stopped again.

   “Malfoy?”

   “Yes, Potter?” He grunted, now a hint of irritation evident in his voice.

   “I was just wondering if you might want to spend New Year’s night with me?”

   “Oh. Yeah, sure, of course.” The blonde gazed at him once again, hair locks tickling Harry’s cheek softly. “Will you kiss me now?”

   “With pleasure”

~~~

   The cold night which marked the last hours of the year, found the two boys laid by the waters that give home to the Giant Squid. It was only a few more minutes until the new year started and both had decided (after some butterbeers they managed to buy and bring to the castle) that there wasn’t a better way to welcome the upcoming year than lay down and count the stars.

   Harry had just located the Sirius star when the faint sound of a firework, probably a present from Seamus, echoed around them. They looked at each other.

   “Happy New Year, git.”

   “Happy New Year, potty.”

   The fireworks continued, lighting the sky with different colours and sparkles, finishing with the four houses. Gryffindor, a red and gold explosion. Ravenclaw, a blue shinning rain. Hufflepuff, four yellow lines intertwining. And finally, Slytherin, a spiralling green that burst into a silver cascade.

   Several minutes passed, the fireworks sound eventually fading while the stars were again the only lights in the dark sky, and the two boys stayed still, silence enveloping them.

   Until Malfoy broke it.

   “Scarhead?”

   “Yes, Malfoy?” His eyes kept gazing at the stars, whose shine reminded him of the silver eyes next to him.

   “I’m… I’m happy. So, thank you.”

   This time, Harry turned his head to look at the lying boy beside him, eyelids close and a cautious expression etched into his features.

   “What do you mean?”

   “I mean… I thought that coming back to Hogwarts would be a shit, seeing that I’m a Slytherin and, well, after everything me and my family have done. But… you have actually made it tolerable. Even good, maybe. I would have never believed if somebody had told me that having you as a potions partner was not that bad.”

   There was something in the quietude of Malfoy’s words that made Harry unable of controlling himself. He covered the thin body with his and kissed him senselessly, only the noises of their lips and tongues sliding filling the chilly air by the Great Lake.

   He knew he shouldn’t say it. The last time he did, the boy beneath him had ran away. But he couldn’t help it as the word escaped his parted lips in a soft murmur:

   “Draco.”

   He braced himself for the stillness of the other. For the shove. It never came. Instead:

   “Harry.”

~~~

   With the start of the new term, Ron and Hermione were back. And even though he was glad his friends were there again, he couldn’t help but to be a little sad for the physical distance he and Draco had been put under. They no longer could stay in one of their beds through the day, alternating between kisses, caresses and small talk. He had learned a lot about the blonde on those few days. And he missed it. Now they had to hide and settle for quick snogs between classes or in the potion’s storeroom. Harry’s week highlight was Thursday’s, when he and Draco resumed to their search.

   Although their time was limited, Harry was happy and enjoyed every little second he could. His friends, on the contrary, were becoming even more worried about him.

   “Mate, can we talk?” Asked Ron one day, just as Harry was living to meet Draco in the library.

   “Actually, I was about to meet with Draco.”

   “Bloody hell, you’re calling him for his first name? What are you now? Boyfriends?”

   He was managed to control the blush who threatened to paint his cheeks, but he could help the small hop his stomach made at the word.

   “Don’t be ridiculous, Ronald!” Chided Hermione. “Harry would tell us immediately if something like that happened, right Harry?”

   He swallowed through the lump in his throat. “Yeah, yes, of course.”

   Ron sighed and rubbing at his eyes, continued. “Look, I’m sorry Harry. We’re just worried. You and that git are together nearly every hour of everyday! We feel like you spend your free time with him more than you do with us.”

   Harry knew it was true, but that didn’t mean he felt guilty about it.

   “Guys, you two are a couple now. I know you try to include me, but sometimes I just feel like the third wheel. I have been getting to know Draco and he’s changed. Yes, he’s still a ponce sometimes, but he’s really fun to be around and I enjoy being his friend. You don’t have to worry about me. Just trust me on this.”

   They were both watching at him, a wary look on their faces, however, Harry knew they would leave him alone for now when Hermione plastered a small smile.

   “We don’t want you to ever feel like you’re an outsider when you’re with us, ok? We get what you’re feeling, and we’ll always support your decisions Harry. Unless you’re being a dunghead of course. Just be careful.”

   Ron corroborated with a small wave of his head and the dark-haired boy offered them a smile. “I’ll be fine.” He assured before heading to the library.

   He almost ran, his breathing slightly irregular once he arrived. Draco hated waiting. As to prove his point, Harry felt eyes boring into him, and lifted his head, immediately finding their owner in the usual table at the farthest corner. The Slytherin spoke before he had time to sit.

   “You’re late.”

   “Sorry. I got held up.” He explained sincerely, the only answer being a disbelieving ‘hum’. Neither of them spoke again.

   Harry couldn’t concentrate, the word “boyfriends” invading his mind whenever he tried to, not letting him finish the freaking first page of the chapter he was supposed to read. After an hour of not getting any work done, the blonde spoke:

   “You’re distracted and tense. What happened?”

   He considered telling him the whole truth, how Ron’s words had unsettled him and that he didn’t know why. However, something told him the news wouldn’t be welcomed, so he blurted:

   “Ron and Mione are still unsure of our… friendship.”

   “Hm, I thought they might.” He admitted, this time much more calmly. “I explained you once, Harry. Not everyone thinks and trusts like you.” Seeing the raven wasn’t relaxing at all, his shoulders tensing more instead, he got up, held his hand and murmured “Come with me.”

   Green iris landed on the extended hand, eyeing it curiously. “Where?”

   “Just come with me.”

   He wasn’t sure of when he started to trust Draco this much, but he obliged, taking his hand. The boy pulled him through shelves and book piles. Half a minute later, Harry found himself hurled against one of said shelves, book covers sinking in his back.

   “Don’t worry about that now, Harry. Can I help take your mind out of that?”

   The Gryffindor’s gaze was already glued to the approaching lips, only a movement of his head signalizing his approval. The kiss was oddly slow, every tongue contact deliberate as if Draco wanted to vanish every concern Harry ever had. The Slytherin took control this time, a hand in the raven’s small back, pushing their bodies together, and the other hand holding his face, fingers brushing his temple. Had somebody went to look for a book in that section, they would have found the two boys pressed together, marble against sun-kissed skin. But Draco didn’t seem to care about it for now, and neither did Harry.

   Their shared breaths, the taste of the blonde’s lips and the feel of the soft strands tangling in his hands sent the Gryffindor on a drowning swirl. He couldn’t step away, he didn’t _want_ to. He was lost in Draco’s smell, in Draco’s proximity, and somehow, it was like he knew the path anyway. He didn’t need to think around Draco, he just knew what do: when he should nip at the bottom lip and then slide his tongue across the bite, when he should suck the sensible skin in the other’s throat, when he should hover just above the red lips and wait for the other’s plead and when he should glue their mouths together once again.

   “Draco” He had no idea was he was asking, what he was trying to say. The name just felt right leaving his lips. 

   “Shhh, Harry. I’m here now.”

~~~

   Harry is utterly, undeniably, fucked.

   It’s been 2 months since he and Draco started their… agreement? Affair?  And he knows it isn’t supposed to be something more. They’re just having fun. Well, it was only fun in the beginning. Now, he was afraid it was becoming something more to him. Something he wasn’t sure it was reciprocated.

   As he stared at the boy in front of him, who was still ranting about the last Gryffindor game, he felt his stomach jump and a chill down his spine once more. It was becoming an annoying occurrence.

   “What on Merlin’s beard where you _thinking_ anyway? Do you have a death wish that Vold… You-Know-Who was unable to fulfil?”

   Seriously, he had been throwing a fit about it since they arrived at the library half an hour ago.

   “I’ve made the same stunt in my first year, Draco! It was _fine._ And his name was Voldemort.”

   “You weren’t one hundred and sixty-four feet in the sky! Who stands on a broom to catch a fucking snitch at that height?”

   “Oh, Malfoy, were you worried about me?” He teased, feeling quite pleased with the idea.

   “Of course I’m not worried about you, Scarhead. I just don’t want to do this fucking project alone and, besides, how dull would it be if the Prophet kept talking about ‘The-Boy-Who-Lived died’ or ‘The-Boy-Who-Killed-Voldmort killed by Quidditch’?

   Harry could really picture the headlines and Skeeter having a filled day so, instead of trying to contradict the blonde, he laughed about it.

   “Stop laughing, you dumb prick!” A book was aimed at the raven’s head, but he dodged just in time.

   “You know, after my amazing reflexes in that game, you should now I could avoid that book.”

   “You’re such a git, Merlin.” Draco muttered more to himself than to Harry, but he still heard it.

   He eyed their surroundings, making sure nobody else was in the library and got up, leisurely walking around the table and coming to stand in front of the Slytherin, who was staring at him with blown wide pupils.

   “Tell me, Draco…” He started, leaning down and breathing the blonde’s sweet perfume “even though I’m ‘such a git’, do you want me to kiss you right now?”

   “Yes” The voice quivered, weakened by Harry’s proximity. He decreased the distance a little more.

   “Are you sure?”

   This time, Draco closed the gap, connecting their lips before whispering “Yes”

~~~

   It was risky, it was irresponsible, and it felt damn good. It was just after mid-night and Harry was practically running under his Invisible Cloak. He just wanted to arrive at the Requirement Room as fast as he could.

   He didn’t know how he hadn’t thought of it sooner. It was Draco who had come up with the idea. Tired of having to snog in dark corners or at the common room in late hours of the night, always afraid someone would walk on them, they had tried to think in some place no one would find them. That was when Draco suggested they meet at the Requirement Room.

   _We can have a bed! Just like in the holidays._ Harry thought excitedly.

   Once he arrived, he took the Cloak off and waited, until

   “Harry” Called a familiar voice behind him.

   He turned, and saw the unmistakable thin body approaching him. When he was finally by his side, Harry asked:

   “You’re ready?”

   “Of course.” Came the reply.

   The Gryffindor paced in front of the door three times, imagining all he needed to be inside. The tall door appeared, and with wasting any time, they both stepped inside.

   “Huh, so Gryffindor. I should have known.” The Slytherin complained after looking around the room, the burgundy colour contrasting with his white skin. Harry, on the other hand, liked how the boy looked, surrounded by the red colour, even if he knew green would always suit him best.

   “I do hope that in some minutes you won’t be bothered by it” He settled in saying.

   “What do you mean ‘minutes’?” Draco inquired before taking his hand and guiding him to the big bed in the farthest wall. They fell on it, the blonde on top of the raven, and Harry promptly swung his arms around the other boy, squeezing him against his body. The next move, however, was made by Draco, who glued his lips to the other’s ones.

   They stayed like that for minutes, hours maybe, just swapping through French-kisses to quick pecks, sometimes some nibbling and licks on each other’s skin.

   “Mark me good, Harry.” Whispered Draco in a particular hard bite from Harry’s part. He moaned as the boy in question sucked, leaving a purple stain in the otherwise white skin. Still not satisfied, he repeated the procedure and marked the boy once more, a little above the first one, the hickey standing out even more this time.

   They continued, hands roaming, lips sliding, breaths shared and whimpers echoing.

   It was probably around one and half (they weren’t sure since none of them had brought a watch and none of them wanted to move to cast a _Tempus_ ) when they decided to rest a little, Draco sagging on top of Harry, who absently stroked his back.

   He couldn’t control it anymore, and he was sure he had stopped trying some weeks ago. He was falling in love with the gorgeous bastard laid on top of him, but he did not care. And he didn’t care everybody else knew about it. He w _anted_ them to know. He just wasn’t sure Draco did too.

   That’s why Harry was more surprised than the other boy when he asked:

   “Don’t you think we should tell people? About this?”

   A cold chill, different from the ones he had every time he looked at the blonde, ran through his body as the boy stilled above him, memories from their first kiss hitting Harry like a bludger.

   He stood rooted to the spot while Draco got up, slowly adjusted his shirt, and closed the buttons, covering the hickeys Harry had made.

   He hesitated, standing by the bed where the Gryffindor still hadn’t moved, pain etched into his face and disbelief flooding the green eyes.

   “There’s nothing to tell them. There’s no sentimental _feelings_ in here.” He almost spat the word, like it was such a stupid idea that it wasn’t even worth saying it. “That’s not what we do, Potter” And left.

   Harry stayed in that room for hours, Malfoy’s scent lingering around him, a constant reminder of what he would never have. He knew that for the Slytherin it was only physical. Why would he ask something like that? He knew Draco’s feelings weren’t equal (and he had made sure to point it out) but, like usual, Harry had dared to hope. However, there was something he was sure about: if he couldn’t have all of Draco, he sure as hell would keep every little piece he could. With that thought in mind, at four a.m he closed the Requirement Room’s door and headed back to his dormitory, falling into a restless sleep.

   When he woke up, the spring sun was already high in the sky and nobody else was sleeping. He dressed his robes numbly, last night’s events still aching inside him. Until he realised it was Friday. He would have potions with Draco. That meant he could talk with him and say he was only joking, that he really didn’t mean it. Maybe even snog the blonde on the storeroom a little. The idea lightened his mood, making his way to breakfast much easier.

   When he arrived the Great Hall, his eyes instantly fell in the blonde head on Slytherin’s table. However, contrary to all the other mornings, Draco didn’t raise his eyes, staying fixed to the toast in his plate. The Gryffindor didn’t let it affect him, attributing the odd behaviour to the night’s shock.

   As soon as he sat next to Ron, his friend turned to him with a surprised and slightly incredulous face.

   “Harry, have you heard what everyone’s saying?”

   “Mate, I just got up. Obviously, I haven’t. What happened?”

   He grabbed some scrambled eggs and added a toast to his plate, picking the coffee as Ron said:

   “Malfoy and Nott were caught snogging last night! Dean saw it all. It’s the talk of the week.”

   There’s was a loud clutter as the mug slid from his hand, burning him and soaking his food. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about Ron’s exclamations, he didn’t care how the mess was gone as fast as it was made. He didn’t care about the throbbing in his hand. Every sense of him was focused on the blonde three tables across him. As if sensing he was being observed, silver eyes peered through fallen thin locks and locked with the green ones.

   And Harry knew. He knew by the way Draco averted his eyes. He knew by the blush that painted his cheeks. He knew by the shudder that went through the skinny body. He knew by the amount of sugar Draco dropped in his usual unsweetened coffee. And he _knew_ by the third hickey in his neck.

   He never heard Ron calling him back. All he wanted was to leave. To disappear from every-fucking-one’s view.

   He did hear, although, just as he passed the Great Hall’s door, his voice calling him.

   “Harry, wait!”

   But he didn’t care. So he disapparated.

~~~

   He found himself in his dorm. How he had managed to disapparate inside Hogwarts was still beyond him, but he didn’t really lost time analysing it. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to.

   He would have submitted to a hundred c _rucius_ instead of the excruciating pain in his chest. He fell on his knees, sobbing into his bed. He and Malfoy had never talked about it, but there was an unspoken agreement between them: while they were together, there was no space for anybody else. At least he believed so.

   Harry missed his classes that day. And dinner. And the meals through the weekend. And classes the next week. He had decided not telling his friends, but when Mione barged into his room, demanding answers, tears of worry in her eyes, he told them everything. How he started to fancy Malfoy, how they kissed for the first time, how he fell in love with him and how he broke his heart. Surprisingly, they accepted the news well enough and Ron only said three times that he would kill Malfoy.

   Hermione eventually convinced him that he needed to get back to classes, which Harry knew was true. The problem was, he didn’t want to see Malfoy again, imagine being his partner in potions or finish the project with him. On the other hand, he was done feeling sorry for himself because of that bastard. So, instead of focusing on the pain, he focused on his studies. On a Friday, two weeks after he found about Nott, he walked into the potions class, ignoring the blonde head that swiftly turned at his arrival, talked with the professor and started attending the sixth year classes, even though he brew the seventh year potions. He also convinced Slughorn to let him make the project alone. He never warned Malfoy about it, he never looked at his direction in the upcoming months. Not for lack of tries from the Slytherin’s part. Once he came back to classes, Malfoy kept trying to talk to him, pleading to let him explain. Harry always brushed it off, either ignoring him or telling him there was nothing to talk. Most of the times, he left a room before Malfoy had the chance to even near him.

   When he was not in classes or in the quidditch pitch, he was in his dorm, reading every book he could, studying for every class, searching for a new project and practicing his magic. He used it all as a way to distract himself from the wound still opened in his chest. And when June came, he once again entered the potions class, handed his project (much to everyone’s shock, since he had only two months and half to do it) and left, eyes never darting into mercury ones.

   His NEWT’s were the second highest, Hermione only surpassing him by a point. He didn’t think twice as he accepted the place in the Auror Training Program. Six months after, he was an official Auror. The boy who stole his heart never walked into his life again, only exceptions being his thoughts or his dreams. Until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tell me what you think! Leave kudos or a comment telling me all your thoughts hahah.
> 
> Unfortunately, this next two weeks are going to be quite busy for me, since I have my final tests. This means I'm not sure when I'll be able to write and post the next chapter, but I'll try to make it around 23th of June, although I can't promise you anything. I'm sorry :(
> 
> About this chapter: now you finally have some insight on what happened between our two boys, so you can expect some angst (ok, maybe a lot of it) in the upcoming chapters! I hope you all liked it and I'm sorry for any mistakes you might have found.
> 
> Thank you!


	4. I hate Mondays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so, so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. My life as been a mess, and I could barely write anything this last few days. But it's finished! Your wait is over and I want to thank you all for the lovely comments you left in the last chapter. It motivates me so much <3

   Harry wasn’t sure when memories turned into dreams, and dreams turned into nightmares.

  It was around midday when he woke up, dried tears on his cheeks and a terrible headache pounding on his head. The empty firewhisky bottle had tumbled to the floor during the night and he could barely remember finishing it. As light spilled through his scarcely opened eyes, the sickening feeling increased and he stood still, trying to keep his stomach contents inside his body. Once he felt like raising an arm wouldn’t make him throw up in his own bedsheets, he  _ accioed _ a Hungover Potion, the symptoms immediately disappearing, leaving behind a weak, exhausted body. Since it was Saturday, his presence was only expected around eight and he didn’t want to analyse anything he had remembered (and why he remembered it in such detailed manner), he let his head sink into the soft pillow and sleep took him again.   

  Unfortunately, he forgot to set his alarm and, believe me, not even the Saviour wants to confront a raging Hermione.  That’s why, at a quarter to eight, Harry could be found jumping from his bed, taking a quick shower to try and eliminate the alcohol scent that still lingered on his skin. He dressed the first jumper his hands laid on, not wasting time to choose some matching jeans. He had one foot inside the fireplace, ready to floo to Ron’s flat, when he noticed he didn’t have his wand. Of course that, being Harry and with a slight daze still clouding his mind, it took him ten minutes to remember he could wandlessly accio it. And that he didn’t really need it anyways. By the time he stepped into the couple’s living room, he was fifteen minutes late, something that Hermione, obviously, didn’t let it slip.

  “You’re late.” She admonished with a glare.

  “I’m sorry, I got held up.” Harry lied, trying to sound as convincing as Hermione sounded annoyed.

  “Trying to make it look like you don’t have a hungover, I bet?”

  “I… You… How do you know?”

  “Big showers and Hungover Potions don’t erase dark circles under your eyes and your skin looks yellow instead of the usual tanned.” 

  Ron chose that moment to enter the room, carrying some Chinese food and setting it on the table.

  “You look like shit, mate.”

  “Well, thank you guys, I have no idea what I would do without you two.”

  Hermione rolled her eyes and sat at the table, while Ron shrugged and went back to the kitchen to fetch the drinks.

  “You prefer beer, wine or water, Harry?” He yelled.

  “I think I’ll go with water.” Harry answered, grimacing at the thought of a new hungover.

  When they were all sat at the table, food filling their plates, Hermione went straight to the question Harry knew was lingering since they left the night before.

  “How are you, Harry?” Concern clouded not only her voice, but also her face. He avoided looking at her, peering at his best mate and finding the same worried expression.

  He sighed. There was no point in pretending to be oblivious about it.

  “Look, guys, I’m fine, ok? I can’t let something so trivial as my past… relation with Malfoy interfere with my work.” Harry drank some water, trying to diminish the dry filling in his throat. “Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not like it still affects me. It just shouldn’t have happened.”

  But the couple wasn’t taking any of it. Surprisingly, Ron was the first to express their thoughts. “Your relation with Malfoy was never trivial, Harry. It was everything but trivial. And I’m not talking about Eight Year only.”

  “And please, Harry, don’t insult our intelligence.” Hermione chided “If your face is anything to go by, you were thinking about him all night. Actually, we’re your best friends, we know you were. You always care too much, even if people don’t deserve it”

  Harry wanted to deny everything, he wanted to say he didn’t spent the night half thinking, half dreaming about his future partner and their past. But he knew it was a lost cause, his friends already knew the truth.

  “Whatever happened between me and Malfoy is over. It was over five years ago. I will never deny to you two that it hurt back then. You were there, so there’s really no point in doing it. But whatever I felt, it’s gone now. He’s my new partner and I have to deal with it. And it’s ok, guys. I’ve been through worst. It’ll be like it never happened. You don’t need to worry, I promise.” Harry wasn’t sure if he was lying more to his friends or to himself, because even if he would never admit it, it still hurt a little. He thought it wouldn’t, that he was past it, but first heartbreaks are always the worst. Seeing Malfoy the day before had opened old wounds that Harry was sure were only scars before the blond had entered Shacklebolt’s office. Tonight had been the proof he still felt something, even if only hurt. Yet, he refused to let it interfere with his job.

  Hermione, obviously, didn’t seem appeased by Harry’s quiet affirmation. 

  “Harry, you can’t do this. Being an auror is dangerous! You have to trust your partner! You’ll never be able to-“ Her rattle was interrupted by Ron’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Mione, let’s just trust him. He knows what he’s doing” He turned to Harry.  _ I hope you know what you’re doing _ , he mouthed. 

  “Just… be careful, please.” She settled. 

  The rest of the dinner was spent between loud laughs and warm chuckles. By the time they all finished, a healthy pink colour stained their cheeks and they moved to sit on the couch.

  “So, mate, what’re doing tomorrow? Your last day of freedom before Shacklebolt’s all over you.”

  “Oh, I don’t really have…  _ Shit! _ I almost forgot.” Scratching his stubble, Harry inwardly cursed and wondered how he could have forgotten about his little godson. “Andromeda is dropping Teddy tomorrow by 9 a.m. It seems he has been  _ a little  _ restless since he found out I was coming back.” He explained to his friends, the faint sarcasm not lost in his voice as he remembered Teddy’s prone to be a little too hyperactive from time to time. Or every hour of every day. 

  “He hasn’t been with you for a couple months, right?” Hermione asked, making Harry feel even worst about the fact he almost forgot about Teddy.

  “Yeah, I miss the little kid a lot. Andromeda said he hasn’t shut up about spending the day with me.” A small smile curved Harry’s lips at the thought. “I should probably buy his favourite cereals, though.”

  “My mom said he can change the colour of his eyes already.” 

  “He does, but normally he’s not even aware of it. It changes to the colour of the person he wants to pick him up.” Harry supplies. He absently looks at the watch in the couple’s living room, growling as soon as he realizes it’s almost midnight. “I should probably go, sorry guys. I need to try and rest before Teddy comes tomorrow. He’ll probably want to play all day.”

  “Yes, of course, don’t worry Harry.” Hermione immediately soothed. They all got up at the same time, saying their goodbyes and Harry making his way to the floo. “You’ll call us when you can?”

  “I always do.”

  They all knew it was a lie, but green flames swirled around Harry and he was alone in Grimmauld Place once again.

~~~

  “HARRY!”

  The Gryffindor almost didn’t have time to open his arms and catch Teddy when he jumped through the fireplace. 

  “Hey there, Teddy-bear. How has my little champion been?” Harry greeted while tickling the five-year-old boy’s belly. He squirmed, trying to escape the fingers without detangling his arms around Harry’s neck.

  “Hello, Harry. It’s good to see you again” Andromeda said, placing a kiss on his cheek.

  “Likewise. I hope he wasn’t too much to handle this last few days.”

  “The usual.” She answered, a tone of exasperation in her voice. “He’ll probably calm down, now that he’s seen you. Or so I hope.”

  Teddy, who was now trying to return the tickles by stabbing his little fingers in Harry’s stomach, suddenly realized his grandmother was still there and didn’t seem to enjoy it.

  “Grannyyyy, I’m with Harry now. You can go.” He whined, arms resting in Harry’s shoulders again, while the man supported his weight in only an arm.

   Andromeda must have known it was a lost cause, because she sighed and laid a gentle kiss in his head. “Ok, Theodore, I’ll go, but-“

  “Yes, grandmother, I’ll behave. I promise”

  Harry chuckled, waving a hand at the elder woman as she stepped into the floo with a muttered “Good luck”.

  “So,” started Harry, finally turning to the child in his arms, green eyes meeting similar green eyes “what do you have in mind for today?”

  “Oohh, I have a new trick. Want to see it?” He didn’t really wait for an answer, twisting in the arm that held him until his feet were once again stable on the wood floor. “Watch”

  Plastering a face of full concentration, Teddy held still for a few seconds. It wasn’t until the first few strands in the fringe started to turn blue that Harry comprehended what was happening. Soon, the old light-brown hair was gone and a light blue covered Teddy’s head completely. His eyes were back to the usually dark-brown.

  “Amazing, kiddo! When did you learn that?” Praised Harry, beaming at the boy while gently ruffling his hair.

  “A week ago, I could only change some parts. But now I can do it all!”

  Teddy was practically jumping from excitement after seeing his godfather pride, so Harry grabbed him under the arms and pulled him into a hug. The hair was already coming back to normal since the boy wasn’t focus on keeping it blue anymore. He giggled into Harry’s embrace, chin resting on the man’s shoulder.

  “Your beard scratches, Harry.”

  “Oh, yeah? I have a trick too. Watch this.”

  He always preferred to shave with a razor, since it kept his stubble absent for longer, but he didn’t have the time in the morning, and now it was impossible with Teddy home, so he settled with a quick spell. In a blink of an eye, his face was smooth again. A tiny hand rested in his cheek, as if checking if it was safe. The gesture was so delicate that, for some reason, it made Harry realize how much he had missed his kid.

  “I missed you, Teddy-bear.”

  “I missed you too, Harry.” They hugged for a few more moments before Teddy, as any five-year-old kid would, started to fidget after being too still. “Ok, ok. I’ll put you down.” Conceded Harry, with a smile. “Now tell me, what do you want to do today?”

  He seemed to think a little, before asking in a shy voice:

  “Cookies?”

  Two hours later, anyone who entered Harry’s kitchen would have found a flour covered Teddy, some egg yolk dripping from Harry’s hair and both of them laughing on the floor, cookie dough spread around them.

  “Do you think we still have enough to bake?” The raven man wondered between chuckles.

  “Cookie dough!” Decided Teddy, throwing his tiny arms into the air, like he had just won a quidditch game.

  “Your grandmother will have my head if she finds out I’ve let you eat cookie dough.”

  “Pleaseee, Harry.” He whined.

  A smirk shaped Harry’s lips. “Well, it depends, Teddy-bear. Are you going to tell her?” 

  “I won’t! I promise, d… Harry.”

  “Then I don’t see any problem. Half of it is in your face, anyway.”

  After they finished the remainings (not including the ones in the kid’s face even though he tried), Harry cleaned his kitchen with a finger snap, but decided that a bath would probably be better than a well-aimed  _ scourgify  _ to wash the ingredients from their skin. 

  A few minutes later, foam coated Teddy’s hair and a few bubbles floated through Harry’s bathroom with a little help of magic. Harry was kneeled next to the bathtub, carefully scrubbing his kiddo’s hair. He, however, didn’t look very interested in the floating bubbles. The man made sure the hair he was scrubbing wasn’t blue before he asked,

  “What’s wrong, kid? Is the water too hot? Are you having bellyache?”

  Noticing the worry in Harry’s voice, Teddy snapped out of his reverie.

  “No, I’m ok. It’s just…” 

  Harry prodded “Yes?...” Taking the shower in his hand, he rinsed the shampoo from Teddy’s head.

  “Are you going away again?” Tearful eyes locked with his, and Harry’s heart clenched a little.

  “No. I like it here, I can be with you.”

  He could have stopped the wet arms that rapidly came around his neck and sooked his t-shirt, but he didn’t mind it and he certainly didn’t mind Teddy hugging him like this.

  His mind focused on what Teddy had asked. He definitely wasn’t planning on going back to America again, at least permanently. He missed Cathelin and some of the other lads, however he could always visit them from time to time. His life, as complicated as it may be, was here, with Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, Teddy and everybody else he loved and cared about. Working with MACUSA helped him becoming better at his job and gave him many other opportunities, he would never regret, but now he was ready to use all those new skills in here. At his home. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could ever leave his friends and Teddy again. Even though they used to talk by floo call almost everyday, back in America, and Harry made sure to visit his kid as often as possible, there was something about holding him this close, and knowing he could do it everyday, that warmed the Gryffindor’s heart. He loved him as a son, and no one would take him from him. Even if he had to bear his new partner. But that was a thought to a whole other day.

  “Hey, come on, kid. I won’t be going anywhere.” He place a soft kiss in Teddy’s damped cheek “Now, let’s finish cleaning you up, shall we?”

  After some more shampoo and water splashed all over the bathroom’s tiles, Harry was eventually successful in convincing Teddy to leave the bathtub. The five-year-old insisted in getting his hair dried with magic and Harry, soft-heart as always, complied, grinning like a fool with the sound of Teddy’s laugh when said hair spiked in every random direction possible, looking almost as dishevelled as his godfather’s. He made omelettes for their lunch and the rest of the afternoon was spent between Teddy trying to change his hair to other colours, hide-and-seek (which Harry won with a little help from his Invisibility Cloak) and the raven man performing every spell Teddy asked him to. The sun was already down by the time Andromeda arrived, finding an almost-asleep Teddy cradled in Harry’s arms while he talked, for the fifth time, about his years at Hogwarts.

  It took her some seconds to regain her characteristic emotionless features, but eventually she was capable of calling Teddy.

  “But granny, do we need to go already?” He whined as they advanced towards the fireplace.

  “Yes, we do. Your godfather is going back to work tomorrow, so he needs to rest.”

  “But I don’t want to go” Mumbled Teddy, letting his head fall, tears unshed tears sinning in his eyes.

  Harry crouched in front of his godson, taking his face between his hands and looking him in the eyes. “Hey, we can see each other again this week.”

  The boy immediately smiled.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “I was thinking in visiting uncle George tomorrow. How about Tuesday? You and your grandmother can come here and have dinner.”

  “Can we, granny? Please?”

  The pleading eyes must have been too much to Andromeda, as she promptly consented. They finally said their goodbyes and left Grimmauld Place, leaving Harry, once again, alone. Suddenly, his house felt grimmer, unfilled with the joy that Teddy had shared with him through the day. However, he couldn’t let it affect him now. His first day back to work was tomorrow and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, restless even now that he started to think about it. The problem was, his anxiety had nothing to do with the work itself, but rather who he was going to see tomorrow, who he was going to work with. No matter what he said to Hermione, he couldn’t deny to himself that something clenched painfully inside him when he thought of seeing Malfoy again. And now he had to work with the bloody git. It wasn’t that he still  _ felt  _ something for him, it’s just that… you never really forget someone that hurts you that way. Still, there was no point on mourning. He had  _ killed a Dark Lord _ , for fuck’s sake, he could walk into his new office and face the man who broke his heart five years ago, he could go and not feel a damn thing. Right?

  Knowing himself, thinking about tomorrow would only increase his worry, so he settled in going to bed and try to rest for the next day. Obviously, it took him a while to his brain finally shut down, falling into a troubled sleep. Curiously, the night was filled with grey eyes and blonde hair instead of the usual nightmares.

~~~

_   He almost had to jog in order to keep Harry’s pace, even though his legs were longer. The Gryffindor still hadn’t talked to him, or even acknowledged his presence, but that wasn’t exactly uncommon in the past few days. _

_   “Harry, please _ ,  _ just let me talk.” He hadn’t talked to Draco for over two weeks, ignoring him since the day he found out Draco’s biggest mistake and overlooking every attempt the blonde made to apologize. As they kept walking (actually, Harry was practically running) his eyes skimmed their surroundings and he couldn’t hold the soft gasp that left him when he realized they were in the same place where they watched the firework in the New Year. Tears prickled his eyes at the reminder of what he had thrown away because of his fear. But he didn’t want to lose it, what they had, the languid kisses and the quiet hugs, their talks and his support, the feeling of having him near. He didn’t want to lose the only person who had forgive and understood him. He didn’t want to lose Harry. “Harry, please,  _ please,  _ listen to me.” _

_   “STOP! PLEASE, STOP!” The raven came to a halt, so suddenly that Draco almost collided with him. He was now standing close to Harry, the distance so short that if he raised his arm he could graze Harry’s skin with his knuckles, but he didn’t dare to. Harry was trembling, face a mask of complete contempt. Draco opened his mouth, but he roughly waved a hand in front of him to prevent him from speaking.  “I don’t want to listen. You played me for a fool, Malfoy and I let you.” The use of his last name hurt more than a punch. “And before you say it was a mistake, it wasn’t. The only one who made a mistake was me the moment I trusted you. I would never ask you anything more than respect, but it seems that you can’t even give me that.” _

_   Draco couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone had tossed him into the Great Lake, a cold feeling chilling him to the bone and he was drowning, drowning in his own unshed tears. _

_   “Just leave me alone.” It was the last words Harry had said to him. _

  Draco woke up just a little before his alarm, however it still felt like he had lied awake all night. There was really no point in staying in bed so he got up and had a cold shower. Maybe it would help with his tiredness and with the bags under his eyes. As the water ran down his back he allowed his thoughts to run wild. He couldn’t stop them anyway, even if he wanted to. Bright green eyes filled his mind, unkempt dark hair following suit. And that’s when it hit him: he was going to see him today. It was Monday. He had spent all weekend trying to grasp the idea of having Harry as his partner. And trying not to freak out about it. After all, he was still a Malfoy and Malfoys don’t freak out. That, however, made nothing to subside the awkward pressure in his stomach. Funnily enough, his last dream reminded him of the Gryffindor’s last words to him (even though he had tried to talk to him a dozen more times). Today Harry would have to talk to him, though. Draco wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad one. Or if he wasn’t going to continue ignoring him. After all, Harry hadn't said a word directly to him last Friday, in the Head Auror’s office, but he knew that some of the answers he had given to Kingsley were actually to him. At least he thought so, since many of the words had hit Draco quite hard. Yet, for some reason, he knew Harry wasn’t going to keep his cold treatment and ignore him. If what he had heard about the raven was anything to go by, Harry had the biggest passion for his work that somebody had ever seen. He would never compromise their job because of his (rightful) hate for Draco. At least, he hoped so. He just wanted to apologize and move on.

  Draco eventually got out of his shower, choosing not to think about what was going to happen in less than two hours. By the time he finished dressing the auror robes, some sun rays were filtering through his curtains and he grabbed his watch. It was half past seven and he only had to be at the Ministry by nine, which meant he had all the time in the world. Figuring there was no reason to stay home, unless he wanted to continue losing his mind over a certain man, he grabbed his suitcase and left his apartment. While he walked over to his favourite muggle coffeeshop, he noticed how tired he still felt. God, he hated Mondays, it was always the hardest day of the week. 

  There was no one in line once he arrived, which was normal since it wasn’t even eight in the morning. “Long black coffee, no sugar” 

  “To drink here or take?” The boy at the counter asked.

  “Take” Draco answered, slightly annoyed. He came here every morning and he always took his coffee in a travel mug. They ought to already know his order.

  He sipped his drink as soon as he left the small shop, grimacing a little as the too hot liquid hit his tongue. On the other hand, the taste of caffeine immediately relaxed his muscles, that he hadn’t even realized were tense, and dissipated some of the the constant turns his stomach was making. 

  He padded to the nearest alley and promptly disapparated to an quiet street nearby the Ministry. As he walked to his office he checked the time once again. He still had forty five minutes until nine, which meant he would be alone until then since Harry would only be there around that hour, or maybe later, seeing the man’s pre-disposition to always arrive late.  _ Good _ , he thought. He would have time to drink his coffee calmly and handle the turmoil in his head. With a sigh, he opened the door.

  He hated Mondays and, by the look in the green eyes boring into his, he wasn’t going to enjoy this one either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there wasn't any interaction between our two boys in this chapter, and I'm sorry! I was going write more, but I thought it would be better to have another chapter for the next scene. Nevertheless, I hope you liked this one! Please, leave some comments telling me what you think, your reactions or even what you'd like to see in the future!  
> I'm going on vacations in a few days, but I'll try to write as much as I can! I'm not sure I'll be able to update though.   
> Thank you <3


	5. It keeps getting worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back from vacations, an internship and a writer's block? Yes, it's me.  
> I would apologize for the late (very very late) update, but my apologies would be even bigger than the chapter. And at least it's a big chapter, so please forgive me? I hope the wait was worth it!

   Harry’s eyes shot up when he heard the door to his office opening. And all of a sudden, he can’t breathe. All he could do was stare at the man in front of him, long limbs and blonde hair, pale fingers holding a coffee mug, which he knew (even though he wished he didn’t) that contained unsweetened, dark coffee. It wasn’t until Malfoy raised his eyes that Harry stared at the man’s face. The dark circles under his eyes mirrored his own, but otherwise the face had the unmistakable sharp lines that always characterized Malfoy. However, he didn’t linger in those. His eyes locked, against his own will, as they always did five years ago, with the mercury swirling in his new partner’s iris. It was hard not to lose himself in them, in something he once knew so well, something that once meant safety to him. It wasn’t hard, however, to remember why it didn’t mean that anymore.

   Draco, on the other hand, was at a loss. He had been sure Harry wouldn’t be there until nine. He thought he still had a little more time to tame his feelings and control his reactions before this moment came. But now he’s here, in front of Harry Potter, whose muscles tense even more at every second that goes by, eyes in a turmoil of emotions, one of which he distinguishes as anger. There’s an unmistakable hate swimming in his look and yet, it’s partly concealed by some emotion Draco cannot name, cannot define or understand. Suddenly, it’s not there anymore. All the chaos previously filling the green iris disappeared, and Draco is left staring at the man in front of him, staring at the man who is a just a reminder, a shadow of the boy he once had, but still so unmistakably him. It’s the same aura, the same feeling he used to have whenever they were near each other, the same unkept dark hair, the same strong jawline now covered in a light stubble, it’s the same presence, capable of quieting a room with the power that emanates from him, and it’s the same kindness that overrides said power. For a split second, Draco is back to late evenings in the library and even more late nights in the darkness of the Eight Year Common Room. His surroundings quickly reminded him of where he is though and he just keeps staring at Harry. He never told anyone, not even to Pansy, how he longed for him through many years after that day, or how he cried to sleep for months, or that his nightmares weren’t always about the war, sometimes they were memories, filled with dark hair, soft lips and quiet whispers to his ears. He eventually got over it, got over his feelings for the Chosen One, the Saviour. The one he would never have. His guilt, however, never left. He knew for long that Harry Potter would never be his, it was obvious the why, but he could never forgive himself for hurting him. Harry didn’t deserve it, not after everything. And Draco didn’t deserve him. The Slytherin had spent hours, days, imagining how he could ever apologize to the man in front of him, how he could explain, _show_ , how sorry he was for what he had made him through. Yet, all his made-up situations and prepared speeches failed him now, vanished by the mere sight of the stunning auror in front of him. Oh, how he wanted to get closer, to once more reach for him…

 He was so lost in his thoughts and mixed feelings that he had forgotten the coffee in his hand. His already numb fingers twitched at the desire to touch Harry and there was nothing he could do as the cup fell from his weak grip. Before he could even acknowledge what was happening, a wand was already being pointed in his direction. A wordlessly _Wingardium Leviosa_ stopped the cup fall, just in time before its collision with the floor, preventing their light wood floor to be stained by the dark liquid. By the time Draco realized what had happened, his coffee had already been levitated to the unoccupied desk, undamaged and waiting for the next sip. He tried to say something, but his stunned brain kept replaying how fast his partner’s reflexes were. And no, he was _not_ picturing (or gaping at) the stretched muscles in the said partner’s arm.

 “T-Thank you.” He eventually managed as he sheepishly walked to what he supposed it would be his new desk. _God, Malfoy, get a grip. Malfoys don’t let cups slip through their fingers and they, sure as hell, don’t stutter._ “I wasn’t expecting you to be here so early.” His voice was a little more stable but there was a vulnerability tone in it that he loathed. He sounded weak. But wasn’t he always, where the Gryffindor in front of him was concerned?

 “I couldn’t sleep this morning, so I thought I might as well come to work earlier and start filling some paperwork.” Saying he couldn’t sleep through the morning was actually an euphemism, since he hadn’t been able to fall asleep all night. But _that_ or the reason why wasn’t exactly something he would willingly share with Malfoy.

  The blonde made a non-committal sound and strode a little more around the desk, eventually sitting down on his chair grabbing the coffee once again. He got lost in his thoughts and Harry, feeling like he was a little bit rude, asked:

  “And you? It’s still early. Why are you here already?” Ok, maybe he should try to sound less… accusing?

  Malfoy, although, didn’t seem to notice any sharpness in the man’s voice and answered lightly, almost absently.

  “More or less the same reason as you.”

  Both man could feel the air thickness rising between them but none of them seemed eager to break it or at least continue the small talk. That was what Harry thought before Malfoy said the exact words he didn’t want to hear.

  “Maybe… I mean… Maybe we should talk.” Draco wasn’t really sure he would like the conversation that was about to happen and he was actually a little scared of what might come after it. He could be assigned a new partner or even lose his job, although he was pretty convinced that Harry Potter would never, _ever_ , let someone lose his job because of him, no matter how much he hated the person. Or Harry might not talk to him ever again… He had gone five years without him, but now that he was so close to make things better he wasn’t ready to lose him again. Yet, he had to explain. He wouldn’t leave them like this, in the tip-toe conversations and scare of saying something wrong. Worst, he wouldn’t be able to work or cope with Harry’s hurt and anger. Last Friday had been enough. So, he he gathered the courage and continued.

  Harry beat him first.

  “Oh, of course. I chose this desk but it’s fine if you want to change. I’m not picky.” He shrugged “And it’s fine if you want to change something in the office, I don’t usually mind it.”

  Draco stopped him before he could say anything else.

  “No, no! I didn’t mean- This desk is fine. There’s… other things we should talk about, Har… Potter.”

  “I’m not sure what you want to talk about, Malfoy. I don’t see any problem that would make it hard for us to work together” The Gryffindor assured nonchalantly.

  “You don’t see…? Any problem?” Draco interjected exasperatedly. He knew what the man was trying to do, and it was driving him bloody nuts. Here he was, trying to apologize (probably the first time on his life for the record) and the stupid git was trying to shrug the matter of. “Don’t be so deliberately obtuse, Potter. It doesn’t suit you.” He spat, probably too harshly for someone who wanted to make things better. _Oh, fuck it. It’s not like he’s making it easy._

“Malfoy, I really don’t…”

  “Please Potter, I would believe you were that thick if it wasn’t for your scores in the auror evaluations and your grades from Eight…” _Shit_ “…Year”. That definitely wasn’t how Draco intended to start the upcoming talk. He wanted to try and make it easier for both. But Harry always ruined his plans, didn’t he?

  The dark-haired man, on the other hand, had no intention to make it easier, as it seemed. Any remains of sympathy Harry had tried to hold on to since the Slytherin had entered their office were long gone, replaced by a growing anger that the man tried to mask. He didn’t succeed. His eyes hardened, any light that used to soften them extinct. His muscles tensed even more, something Draco doubted that was possible and the fist that hold the quill clenched so much that it almost broke it in two. Harry exhaled heavily.  And suddenly, he raised his eyes to meet Malfoy’s.

  Draco gulped imperceptibly.

  “Tell me, _Malfoy…_ ” Harry started slowly, dangerously “what _exactly_ do you want to talk about?” He all but practically growled.

  “I… You…” He babbled, finally setting the coffee down, afraid it might slip (again) from his shaking hands. He rose from his chair, feeling like the additional height difference, since the other man was still sit, gave him a little more courage. “There are things that we left unsolved.” The blonde finally settled.

  Harry, however, appeared determined to diminish Draco’s resolve and deliberately rouse from his chair as well. There was nothing the blonde man could do except to stand still as the other man neared him. Even though a part of him felt weak and a bit scared from Harry’s eminent approach and his now openly irritated expression, he couldn’t help but notice how his face had changed. To better he might had. He couldn’t lie to himself, Harry was still a damn attractive man. And bloody hell, he was fit. Years of auror training and being out in the field had filled the former scrawny body. Not that the Gryffindor hadn’t been fit in their last years of school, but now he could fucking fight Adonis. The git wasn’t wearing the jacket from their auror robes, which meant Draco had now a full view of Harry’s biceps, partly covered by the black t-shirt. How many weight could he lift, he wondered. The pectorals stretched the t-shirt in a completely indecent way. The best, however, was how said t-shirt was tucked in his pants, marking the narrow hips. He probably should avoid looking at his partner’s backside, he thought to himself.  With his meticulous examination (that he would later deny, if Harry had somehow noticed), he didn’t realize how close the man had moved.

  Harry, on the other hand, noticing the small fear in the blonde’s eyes when he stepped away from his desk, had relaxed his features. It was hard, really hard, to control his emotions next to Malfoy, but the last thing he wanted was to scare him. All he had to do was not feel something at all. Easy.

  Or not so much.

  The fact that the man was doing everything to avoid his eyes (yes, that would be exactly what Malfoy would say he’d been doing) helped him calm down slightly, although a shiver travelled his body as he continued to approach him. The uncomfortable feeling, he couldn’t quite place and that had followed him since last night, increased. He had intended to stop a few feet from the man. He felt almost overwhelmed by their proximity, but there was something pulling him nearer, something telling him they should be closer. He also didn’t realize how close they had moved until he was at a few centimetres from him. His eyes roamed, without his permission, through the man in front of him. The clear white skin of his neck still reminded him of marble, only dotted by a few spots here and there. He remembered kissing them all. He also saw a new one. He tried not to think about kissing it too. Raising his eyes, he looked at Malfoy’s face. They were the same expressions, like the high cheekbones and the same unusual rosy lips contrasting with the pale complexion, except more mature now. He was freshly shaved, emphasizing his sharp jawline. He was still good-looking. Very good-looking.

  The Gryffindor was about to continue his scrutiny when the other man moved minutely. His reverie and Draco’s broke, like they had been it with a _Reducto._ They suddenly remembered why they were in such positions in the first place and both took a step back.   

  “There is nothing left to solve, Malfoy. And nothing left to talk.” The raven affirmed quietly but vehemently. He made to move away, but Draco spoke before he had the chance to.

  “What do you mean, there’s nothing to solve or talk about, Potter?” He’s earlier annoyance was back and he wasn’t stopping it now. “We went together in school for seven years. Six of which we tried to hurt each other and one in which we snogged the hell out of each other.”

  “Actually, I’m sure you’ve hurt me through all the seven years.”

  A _stupefy_ wouldn’t have done a better job. Malfoy was speechless and completely still except for his eyes. They alternated between Harry’s, stunned and doubtful. Draco didn’t know what he should do. It was hard to believe how much one sentence could pain him and he was crossed between leaving and fighting back. In the end, he settled by fighting back the tears prickling his eyes. He would never allow someone to see him cry again.

Harry wasn’t sure what was that he saw passing in the grey eyes, but he felt guilty and this certainly wasn’t going where he planned to. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He really should control better next to the blonde. He was letting too much on.

  “Look, Malfoy. Past is past and it’s not important. Whatever happened between us were stupid mistakes that don’t matter and shouldn’t have happened. Let’s just pretend they never did.”

  That made Draco wake from his stupor. His face morphed from, stunned to indifferent to annoyed, quicker than a snitch in a quidditch pitch.

  “And you think that’s possible, Potter? Just pretend it never happened. You believe that’s better than just letting me explain? Letting me apologize?” He fumed, unable to cope with how unreasonable his new partner was being.

  “Yes. I’ve been doing it for the last five years. I don’t see why it wouldn’t work now.” He reasoned unnervingly calm.

  “Maybe because I wasn’t your partner for the last five years. Maybe because you didn’t have to see my face every day and work with me. I _need_ to explain. Please, Harry.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. It worked in the last years because I. Don’t. Care. But you’re right about something. We work together now. And so, I expect you to keep our talks work-related from now on. I don’t want to understand or remember, Malfoy. I just want to do my job.” With that last remark, he finally stepped away and went back to his desk, sitting on his chair.

  Draco, once again, was speechless. He was becoming sick of this feeling, but there was nothing he could do as he saw the other man back away. After all, how could he change the raven’s mind? He had always been the most stubborn person he ever met. And the most altruistic. That meant that, if Harry was actually refusing someone’s request, it was something he really, _really,_ didn’t want to talk about. It was hard, however, to be so close to finally conclude things, make him understand and, who knows, maybe have a chance as friends, and instead just leave it like it was. Like it has been for five years. Then he understood: talking about their history would only bring Harry pain and memories he didn’t want to relieve. He was over it, there was no point in making him go back there, even if the blonde had been living in there since their final night. And even though it pained him, he decided he should let Harry be selfish for once. He could get over it too, forget everything and just be his partner. He didn’t even know why he had cared so much about it. Where had is pride been? His bitterness and indifference? It didn’t matter now. He would eventually have them back, he promised himself as he neared the Gryffindor’s desk, stopping just in front of him.

  “Is this really what you want?” He had to be sure, one last time. His voice was no louder than a whisper, but it didn’t tremble anymore.

  That hand holding the quill stilled. Three seconds passed, in which Draco watched his partner breathing, the green eyes never leaving whatever he had been writing. It felt like an eternity had passed but Potter eventually lifted his eyes. The emptiness in them gave Draco his answer, confirmed by a minuscule nod.

  That settled it then.

  Draco straightened his back, held his chin a little higher and breathed. Then, he held his hand out.

  “Well, welcome back, _partner._ ” He said, a mask of impassiveness carefully placed. For a moment, he wasn’t sure the other was going to accept it. Until he rouse and clasped their hands together.

  “Thank you.” And Draco didn’t know what the other was thanking him for exactly.

~~~

  The rest of the day was rather dull. Both Harry and Draco were determined in ignoring the other’s presence, limiting their interaction to exchanging documents or politely ask if they wanted a coffee or tea when they went to fetch one. Their eyes didn’t cross again during all day, as they both did their best not to look at the other.

   Whenever one of them found his gaze unconsciously slide to the side, they would immediately snap their eyes into the work in hand. The words traded between the two weren’t more than an occasional “hm”, or “yes” and “no”. None of them appeared to mind sticking their interactions to monosyllables. That was, of course, until it was almost time to leave.

    Even though the Slytherin knew his new partner would rather fight another Dark Lord than actually spend any time, besides the strictly necessary, with him, his manners (and maybe a little masochism and curiosity) forced him into being nice. Since the dark-haired man hadn’t specifically told him he didn’t want to talk _at all_ , he guessed his invitation would only strike as considerate and nothing else.

     “So, Potter, would you like to join me for a drink? We should probably try to understand how the other works so things could be more harmonious in the future.” Tried Malfoy, as the two of them grabbed their coats and prepared to leave.

  As he had predicted, Potter seemed everything but eager with the prospect of sharing a drink or two and exchanging futile words.

  “Sorry, I can’t. Someone’s expecting me.” It wasn’t true, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either. Harry _had_ told Ron a few days ago that he would visit George and he had it in his mind to do it after leaving work, so he tried not to feel guilty about the weak excuse.

  For Draco, however, the Weasley twin wasn’t his first option, but he should have guessed that the wonderful Saviour would have someone to occupy his time. A future trophy boyfriend, maybe, who knew?

  “Ah, yes, of course. Another time, then.” With this, the blonde swiftly turned away and left their shared office.

  Sighing, and wondering what he had done in his past to deserve a day like that, he left the room as well. From the moment his ex-lover had opened the door to the moment he closed it, he felt like this Monday just kept getting worse.

  Luckily, the work was over for the day and he could now relax and ignore everything that happened and his current situation. And what better to do it than letting George entertain him?

  It didn’t take him much time to get home, take a bath and change. At a quarter past six Harry apparated directly from his flat to Diagon-Alley. He took caution to land in a scarcely crowded alley, near Bativolta street. It was something he had learned over the years, as a way to avoid endless autographs, handshakes and praises. George never gets tired of telling him how much he doesn’t mind the publicity, though.

Luckily, there wasn’t much movement in the streets and he only had to handshake two people and deny one autograph. Once he arrived at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes it wasn’t hard to spot George. The redhead was currently stocking some Flu Bubble-gum’s, which allowed Harry to sneak behind him unnoticed.  Just as he stills right behind the man, George turns almost shocking with him and jumping slightly.

 “Merlin’s balls, Harry. Don’t do that!’

 “Who did you think I was? The last girl you ran away from in the morning after?” He teased as both man hugged and patted each other's back.

 “You’re missing an update, I’m with Angelina now. We’ve been dating for a few months. You see what happens when you disappear to god knows where and only remember to floo call from time to time?” Chided George, making the raven feel a bit guilty for his lack of attention in the last few months.

 Trying to shrug it off, he continued his teasing. “Oh, so it was her you were afraid of?”

 “Ahhh, I was beginning to miss my best sassy guinea pig. The others just complain too much when their tongues swell. Not that I can understand anything they're saying, but it’s still annoying.”

 Harry laughed, shaking his head in incredulity. He didn’t doubt the twin for a moment.

 “So,” he started, looking around “have you got any new toys?”

 “Oh, yes! Loads of them. They’re about to hit the shelves in a few days. Ron wanted to catalog them first. You know how he is, always making the job I pay him for and ruining the fun in the meanwhile.” George informed, resuming to stocking one of his most sold items.  “By the way, you’re not going to escape mom much longer, you know that, right? She’s been freaking out since you told her you were coming back. I’m pretty sure you’re lunching with us on Sunday. She’ll make you do an Unbreakable Vow if she has to.” He warned in a not so kidding voice.

 Harry knew how much truth that last sentence held and quickly appeased the man’s worry.

 “There’s no need for such extreme measures. I was actually thinking in visiting on wednesday.”

 “She and dad are visiting Charlie. They’re only back by Friday night.” The redhead finished his work and lifted a large empty card box. Nodding at two other, he asked: “Can you help me with those?”

 Eyeing the boxes suspiciously, like a white rabbit would jump out of them at any second, he said: “You could just levitate them, you know?”

 “Yeah, but I wouldn’t seem so strong if I did. Besides, I’m doing you a favor! Maybe there’s a cute guy somewhere in the store and he’ll be amazed by how strong the Chosen One is.”

 Scoffing, Harry levitated the boxes in front of him and started to follow George into the back of the store.

 “Oh, I see.” The man continued “You’ve found a pretty lover in America, haven’t you?” George looked over his shoulder and winked at Harry, almost tripping in a misplaced Crazy Wand.

 “Ah! Right.” Harry scorned, his mind unwillingly travelling to a certain blonde, who just so happens to be his new partner. Ignoring his erratic mind, they finally reach their destination.

 “Don’t tell me you’re still single, Harry!” George asks, incredulous.

 “I happen to enjoy the freedom of being single, thank you very much.”

 They settle the boxes down.

 “Not even one-night-stands?” He tries.

 “I am _not_ answering that.” Harry says firmly.

 “It’s decided then!”

 Immediately, George pads rapidly to the store’s annexed office, just a couple feet away from where they are. The green eyed man, sensing he was going to regret every decision he ever made in visiting the Weasley, goes after him.

 “George, wait! What’s decided?”

 Before he had the time to reach and stop him, the man breaks through the door, startling Ron, who ends up scattering papers everywhere.

 “What the bloody…!”

 The older brother interrupts Ron’s train of curses.

 “We’re going to the bar right after closing the shop! Your best mate needs to get laid.”

~~~

As soon as Draco arrived at his flat, he felt the tension from the day slightly diminishing, although not completely leaving him. He closed the door and warded it absently with a few flicks of his wand. Setting his things down on the living room table, he sighed. He needed a shower and tea after the day he had. He walked slowly to the bathroom, feeling his muscles sore from the tension he held throughout the day, and turned on the shower, letting the water warm by itself instead of just casting a warming charm. Going back to the living room he grabbed the bag he had left on the table and took it to the bedroom. Quickly, he undressed, hanging his robes neatly, ready for the next day.

 The next day… that was something the blonde definitely didn’t want to give much thought to.

 Five minutes later, Draco found himself unable to follow his own decision. Well, actually, he wasn’t thinking in the next day… he was rather remembering everything that had happened today. The water kept hitting his head, the otherwise bright blonde hair now a shade darker. The clear beads of water ran down his chest, eventually joining the rest of them by his feet. But he felt nothing of it. His mind was focused on Potter and their earlier conversation. Even though he passed the day successfully avoiding any thought about their past or the Gryffindor’s demand, it seemed that his mind wasn’t so obedient once he was in the comfort of his own home and not the office he now shared with his former lover.

 _No, not former lover. Harry- I mean Potter was nothing to me. Isn’t that what he wants to pretend anyway?_ Draco snarled bitterly to himself. Nevertheless, he wasn’t able to stop analysing every single second from the day. He could understand why the man had become the DMLE star auror: besides the stupidly fit body (seriously, had the git spent the last five years between gym and hunting bad guys?), Potter was exceptionally professional. He finished all the paperwork without a single muttered curse, he never opened a letter without checking for curses first and Draco even caught him practicing wand movements by the corner of his eye! Of course, not everything was perfect. Potter was incredibly disorganized, he left tea mugs everywhere and any documents that both had to sign would appear in the Slytherin’s desk in no specific order whatsoever. Yet, he was infuriatingly nice to everyone, even to him. _And_ , not once did he forget to ask if Draco wanted anything from their breakroom, like tea or a cookie. Of course, that was an obvious etiquette protocol but it wasn’t like Potter was familiar with those kind of rules. Besides, he didn’t think he would blame him for not being nice after their morning talk, but he had been without even hesitating. What really discomforted the blonde, however, was how the Saviour, the _strong_ and oh so powerful Chosen One, was unable to meet his eyes. Eyes that once looked at him with such wonder, such need and-

  His hand came up and he rubbed his face hard, trying to vanish all the memories he didn’t want to relieve right now. Potter had been pretty clear. Nothing had happened just like there was nothing to talk about. Draco intended to keep it that way then.

  The rest of the bath passed with no more thoughts about his partner, simply sticking to washing his hair (twice, obviously) and wrapping a towel around his waist once he finished scrubbing his body. After making sure his feet were dry and there were no more water droplets falling in the mosaic floor of his bathroom, the man entered his kitchen, immediately setting the kettle on and grabbing a bag of tea. He waited, hair still damp and water drops running down his back, stopping once they reached the towel. Luckily, since patience wasn’t Draco’s best trait, the water didn’t take much to start boiling and soon enough a warm mug was heating his long fingers. He went back to his room, putting on some briefs and a shirt. He didn’t feel like dressing some pants. Father would have a heart attack if he ever saw him like this.

 Going back to the living room, he sat down on his couch, pulling a knee to his chest and seeping the still burning hot liquid. He let out a low moan, the remaining tension finally leaving him and letting him sag against the numerous pillows. He could at last rest a little, just enjoy the quietude of his home, nothing to think about and no one waiting for-

  “ _Shit”_ Draco got up so fast the tea swirled dangerously, a big amount splashing on the wood floor. “Fucking brilliant” he muttered. This day just kept getting worst. He had just remembered he promised Pansy, after an insufferable amount of asking from her, he would meet her at the Leaky (he would never understand how she liked that place, they didn’t even have wine) around seven p.m to tell how the first day went. Obviously, this was before he knew who would be his new partner… Otherwise she would have demanded him to meet her as soon as he left the Ministry. At least he had time to shower and have a taste of the tranquillity he was sure he wasn’t going to have for the next days.

 Glancing at his wristwatch and finding he had about twenty minutes to get ready and arrive at their meeting point, he spelled the floor clean with a curt wave of his wand and padded to his bedroom, yanking a white shirt from his closet and grabbing his favourite dark blue trousers. Ten minutes later, the blonde finished buttoning the blazer. He had to admit muggles had a surprisingly good sense of fashion.

 He arrived at the bar only two minutes late (thanks to the stupid apparition wards in Diagon Alley that made him walk ten minutes) and obviously, Pansy was already there, waiting for him with a not so friendly face.

 “I thought you knew how much I hate to be kept waiting.” She chided sternly once he sat down in front of her, at the farthest table from the door. She always remembered his appreciation for privacy and he felt suddenly grateful for it.

 “I’m sorry, Pansy. I lost a little too much time in the shower. You know how I am, I’m not ready unless I’ve washed my hair two times.” It wasn’t the truth per se, but saying he almost forgot their plans would be worse.

 “Nonsense, darling! We all know you’ve evolved since fifth grade. Now you wash it four times.” The small smirk in her face told him he was forgiven, even though she didn’t believe him for a second.

 “Look who talks Mrs. I-go-to-manicure-every-three-days.”

 “Have you ever seen nails so flawless, Draco?” She asked, while wriggling her perfect red nails in front of him.

 “Of course not.” He answered with a fond smile “And which drink are those perfect manicured hands holding tonight?”

 “Bring me a martini, please. We both know it’s the only drinkable thing in here.”

 “You were the one who chose the place!” The man chuckled incredulously.

 “Convenience” She stated matter-of-factly as if it was obvious, waving a hand dismissively.

 Still laughing inwardly, Draco approached the counter, an expression of distaste contorting his face once the bitter smell of beer hit him. He ordered a martini and a double firewhiskey for himself (he was needing it since he couldn’t finish his tea) and, seeing as it was still early and there was barely anyone at the bar, soon enough he was walking back to Pansy, a glass in each hand, cooling his fingers.

 “Double?” Pansy immediately inquired.

 “I’m needing it.” He answered slightly defensive.

 “Hum hum” Pansy hummed low, sipping her drink. Draco copied her action, letting the cold liquid burned a pathway through his throat, leaving a pleasant unmistakable taste in his mouth. “So tell me, Draco. How was your first day? Rather good I’d say, if you’re already in the need for a double.”

 It was all the man could do not to spit the drink all over the table. The alcohol hadn’t affected him enough for this conversation yet. He lowered the glass, absently running a finger through the border, not being able to look directly into Pansy’s eyes.

 “It was fine, I guess. Too much paperwork, but that was predictable.” He said, shrugging his shoulders like the day hadn’t been a big deal. He really wished Pansy would stop here.

 “What about your new partner?”

  _But she never stops, does she?_ He thought to himself rather exasperatedly

 “He’s… he’s… hum… he’s nice.” Draco really needed to stop babbling wherever Potter was concerned “It’s not like I could choose another one so there’s no point in complaining about it.”

 “But why would you complain? Did he say something? Did he _do_ something to you?”

 “No! No. I mean…”

 The woman didn’t hear a word he said.

 “But you said he was nice, so that doesn’t make sense. Ooohhh, I get it! Is he not hot enough for your gay ass?” She asked, wriggling her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

 That _definitely_ wasn’t the problem with Potter.

 “Pansy! No. It’s nothing like that. It’s just…” He knew there was no escaping this. “You see, uhm… it’s just- he’s… well… he’s Potter.” There, he said it.

 Pansy, who was in the middle of an eye roll, snapped her eyes to his, boring them into him without even blinking. Draco was left uncomfortably sipping his drink and wishing he was still at home with his favourite mug. After some awkward seconds, his patience started to thin and he arched a sarcastic eyebrow at her. That seemed to make the trick.

 “You mean Potter? Harry Potter? As in Saviour-Of-The-Wizarding-World Potter? The Chosen One? The guy you bickered with for a whole six years? Presently bachelor number one? Your teenage crush? Snogged-You-Silly Potter? _That_ Potter?”

 The blonde winced at the memories her question rouse. Not that they weren’t happy, it was the reason for them being only memories that hurt.

 “Yes, Pans. Thanks for the meticulousness. Do you even know any other Potter?”

 “Draco.” The seriousness in her tone told him how worried she was. “For how long have you know it?”

 Taking in the lack of luck he had throughout his whole life and how much the universe enjoyed fucking it, he figured he should have seen it coming. It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting to barrel into the man once or twice, they would be working on the same department for Merlin’s sake. But he would never imagine they would assign him with the wonder auror and defeater of Voldemort. Specially since their former animosity was well known to everyone.

 “Friday.”

 “And you didn’t send me an owl?!” She bellowed angrily.

 “What was I supposed to say, Pans?” He shrugged defeatedly. “ ‘Hey there, Pansy. Just wanted to tell you that my new partner is my ex-nemesis, former lover, if you can even call him that, and also that he seems to continue to hate me, reasonably of course.’ “

 “Damnit, Draco. I don’t know, but you could have said something.”

 “There was nothing to say that would matter.”

 They stayed like that for a some more seconds, none of them sure of what they should say and just finishing their respective drinks. The short haired girl eventually found her words again.

 “But there _were_ things you could say to him that would matter.” She prodded carefully “How did it go today? Did you talk to him?”

 Draco sighed, unable to ignore or lie to his friend, as much as he wanted to avoid today’s events.

 “It seems that, after five years, he still doesn’t want to know why I was so incredibly stupid and a bastard that night.” He explained, not caring to hide the emotions on his voice and eyes. Pansy already knew about his guilt and remorse anyway.

 “Draco, you weren’t a bastard. Stupid, yes, but nothing more. And what do you mean ‘he doesn’t want to know’?

 “I tried to talk to him this morning. I arrived earlier-”

 “Obviously” The woman interrupted.

 Draco sent her an annoyed look and continued. “But he was already there. When I started to explain he just said we should pretend it never happened. Always a Gryffindor. Reckless and dumb.” He said in a sudden angry tone.

 “Dumb?” She inquired confused.

 “Who, in bloody hell, thinks it’s a good idea to not solve old misunderstandings with your new partner? Specially in a dangerous job like ours. There’s a reason the git wasn’t in Ravenclaw.”

 Pansy smiled at that “Misunderstanding is an euphemism for what you two have been through, dear”

 “Pansyyy, you’re supposed to be helping me.” He whined rather undignifying. Mother wouldn’t be proud.

 “I don’t think I can, Draco.” She stated, now with a sad smile. “You know what I think about why you’ve done it, back in eight year. I understand, even if I still think you were an idiot. But you can’t oblige him to hear you, at least for now. Have you thought that maybe it isn’t easy for him as well, to be your partner?”

 “Please” he scoffed “He’s been over us for years now.”

 “That does not mean remembering it doesn’t hurt him.”

 The blonde couldn’t argue with that. But that didn’t stop it from frustrating him.

 “Yes, I know. I’ve agreed to do it anyway, so there's no turning back now. But damn it, Pansy, I wish I could just tell him the truth. Maybe we could go back to good terms. Friendly even. Anything but the awkward tension we have now.” Now that there wasn’t more alcohol for him to consume, he felt like he should order another double. Maybe something stronger. He fidgeted in his seat, feeling the weight of Pansy’s look once more. A hand absently combed the blonde locks, finishing by tugging gently at the lapels from the blue coat.

 “Do you still have feelings for him, Draco?”

 If he still had any firewhiskey left, he would be spitting it out for sure this time. Instead, he was left staring at her in disbelief, mouth standing slightly open.

 “What kind of idea is that?!” He blurted eventually. Somehow, the indiscreet question had him going through how much the Gryffindor had been professional and almost nice during the day. “Of course not!” Right? He gathered he should try and sound more sure. “That’s just unthinkable.”

 “You’ve been affected by him since first year and we both know what you two did back in eight year. It’s not that impossible or even unlikely for you to still have feelings.” Pansy reasoned calmly, while making a signal for the waitress to bring two more drinks.

 “It’s absurd. The only thing I want is to apologize to him and explain what happened. I don’t want him to hate me for the wrong reasons, or compromise our work because of it. Sometimes I regret letting him get to me, I should have been stronger back then and just be happy with his friendship. But that’s long gone. Just because he’s my new partner, we have an history and he’s hot now, it doesn’t mean I still like him.” He finished his rant almost breathless, completely unaware of his last comment.

 The woman in front of him, on the other hand, looked almost pleased and a small smile danced on her lips. “He’s hot, han?”

 It was only then that Draco realized his mistake. He rubbed his face with both hands, ashamed of being caught with something he hadn’t even completely admitted to himself yet. Well, kind of. He waited until their drinks were set on the table and the girl who brought them was gone.

 “It’s not like he wasn’t hot before, Pans, but you can say that auror training filled a few good spots. He surely isn’t the scrawny…” His voice faltered and died at the image in front of him. A black mass of messy hair, that he would recognize anywhere along with the bronzed skin, had just passed the door and entered the bar. Potter was accompanied with the Weasley, who was laughing loudly at something the raven had said. What took his attention, however, was the arm swung around his broad shoulders.

 “What are you-” Pansy started, scared by the sudden change of expression in her friend's face, but she also stopped what she was saying once her eyes followed Draco’s gaze.

 The man, whose arm was carelessly circling Harry, moved, and the Slytherin was able to see his face. George Weasley.

 ‘ _Someone’s expecting me.’_ he remembered his partner saying. He really should have guessed. Suddenly, and for some reason he didn’t want to explore, he couldn’t be there anymore. He got up, searching his pocket for some sickles and galleons.

 “Draco-” Pansy tried.

 He threw a good amount of coins, more than enough, into the table. He just needed to get out of there before Potter saw him. Their group was already sitting on a table, far enough of the door for Draco to leave unnoticed.

 “I’m sorry, Pans. I’ll catch up to your later, ok?” He apologized, kissing her forehead. Her brief nod told him she understood.

 He walked to the door, moving between tables as little as possible so the movement wouldn't catch the unwanted attention from a par of certain green eyes.

 He was almost out, the door was open and all he had to do was step outside. Except, he looked back.

  And their eyes met.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, what did you all think? This was the most difficult chapter until now for me to write so tell me everything in the comments! What are your expectations for the next chapters? I'm curious ;)  
> I hope you liked it and once again, I'm sorry for the waiting! I'll try to be faster from now on.  
> As usual, sorry for the mistakes!  
> Thank you!


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